Chorophobia
by Verdot
Summary: [FINISHED] Dancing. A silly thing to fear... Each member of the cast discovers their own reasons for dancing. Finally: The Observer. That which exists outside of time, only can observe it. A resolution or two and some surprises.
1. First Stanza: Yuffie

**. . .Chorophobia. . .**

First Stanza: Yuffie Kisaragi

_"You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends,  
And how, how rare and strange it is, to find  
In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends,_

_For indeed I do not love it ... you knew? you are not blind!  
How keen you are!  
To find a friend who has these qualities,  
Who has, and gives  
Those qualities upon which friendship lives"_

T. S. Eliot _Portrait of a Lady_

"Ouch!" she screeched, as another of her toes was painfully stepped on. That made for a swollen left foot, and a half swollen right one; not exactly the best situation for grace. Although, she could clearly say that she was never one for grace anyways. That was Tifa's domain, in her opinion. She was contented to stay the awkward clumsy girl.

As for her dance partner...

She always thought that he would be graceful. He was a friggin sword fighter for Leviathan's sake. Watching him swing that obnoxiously large thing around gave her an impression of a dance; one-sided, harmful, but strikingly beautiful. She didn't have many chances to catch a glimpse of him while he fought, but the few times she did had left her slightly awe-struck.

But Cloud was a terrible dancer. Hell, Barret did a better job than he did, as she could see from the corner of her eye. And he had an even smaller dance partner; little Marlene in a pink dress.

This wasn't any fancy event or anything. She didn't have to dress up as much as she ended up, with the ends of her hair flipped out and petite frame clad in that one green dress that fell just above her knees. Cid had specifically asked that everyone avoid "fancy pantsy shit" and wear whatever they felt was appropriate. It was Shera who later called everyone and told them to dress for the outdoors, as the whole ceremony and party would be held under the open sky.

But it was a nice day, and she didn't wear dresses _that_ often. Maybe she was indulging herself a little. Besides, she looked damn good in it. Green was such a nice color.

Even Shera was wearing green, as she glanced at her while sidestepping Cloud's foot again. A pale shade of green that was almost deceptively white. Tifa had told her that Shera didn't want "virginal white" since it didn't fit her. Also, she and Cid already had a son. There was no pretending certain things hadn't happened; a fact that made Shera blush hotly whilst Yuffie teased her.

She still marveled at how patient that woman was. Over six years after Meteor, and they were making it official. Cid was such a procrastinator. Sure, they'd been informally married for quite some time now; in the legal sense and all. But there had never been a _wedding_.

Which brought her back to the present. Dancing. Right. More like combat.

She feigned a misstep and kicked Cloud in the shins, eliciting a combination startled cry and grunt from his throat. She flashed him a concerned look when his eyes questioned her, and he soon turned his attention back to where his feet were going.

She decided to get another good look at him while he was out of his usual clothing. He didn't wear a suit; Cid's call for casual attire had freed him from that restraint. But he did go to a little effort, with a button down blue shirt and black pants. It suited him, even if it was closer to the attire she'd expect from Vincent.

And she'd been staring for too long, as his gaze penetrated her questioningly.

"Mind if I cut in?" a deceptively smooth voice broke into the awkward bubble Cloud and her had created.

She looked up to see an arrogant smirk above an equally arrogant posture. He had it down to an art now; the entrances were straight out of movies and magazines. And it appeared he had brushed his hair. Not bad.

"Hey Reno," she said with a bored tone, hoping to deflate the smile into the real one. He half obliged, as always. His smirk lost some of its original luster, but still remained firmly planted on his face.

Cloud stopped moving, and glared over at the other man. He didn't know that Reno wasn't invited; he'd been away from New Midgar for some time now. But Yuffie knew that Cid would blow a fuse or two if he knew the troublesome redhead had crashed the party. But she also knew Reno wouldn't leave without either some free alcohol or a dance.

She seriously considered letting him make off with some booze, and leave her be.

"C'mon Yuff, I haven't seen ya in awhile," he leaned over as he spoke, silently taunting her height. In doing so, he challenged her. The way he set his smirk and the odd way he could still slouch while leaning further confirmed that thought.

Yuffie Kisaragi never backed down from a challenge.

"Fine, one dance," she said, as Cloud gaped for a moment. Then he shrugged his shoulders and stepped aside. She expected more of a fight from him, for some odd reason. Maybe she was getting too attached to certain ideas. Like Cloud.

Reno was at arms length. It gave her a false sense of security, that volume of air between her and the red wolf. For she knew that's what he was, for all the smiles and flirtations he threw around. She'd seen him fight, from the unfriendly side.

If Reeve could see them dancing, he would have been happy, she knew that. He'd been in contact with the Turks and AVALANCHE for quite some time. A phone call here, a quick visit there... it was kind of amazing how well he'd kept in touch. And he was trying to form some sort society, too, while he was at it.

But she had to focus. If his dancing was anything like Cloud's she'd be in for more swelling in her already swollen feet. Then again, she did forget one fundamental fact: Reno was not Cloud.

He was a damned good dancer. Good way to pick up women, she supposed.

"When did you learn to dance?" she whispered at him, finally letting her eyes settle on her partner. He grinned and shrugged.

"Somewhere," he replied, locking with her gaze for a moment, "I did have a life before we met, ya know." She scowled.

She just focused on the music now; it was a light and cheery tune, suitable for the occasion. She didn't want to think that in a few moments, Reno would be gone, for how long... she didn't know.

They were friends, after all. At the very least. She could turn her overactive mind off for a moment and just give him a dance, she owed him that. Probably a lot more too.

"Why did ya come, Reno?" she muttered before her mind could talk her out of it. He smiled.

"Just for a dance, Yuff," he replied, as the music ended, with the last strained cry of a bow across a string.

And as sudden and as dramatic as he came; he left. Not before he gave her a kiss on the hand and a wink, turning whatever frowns and bad thoughts she had to a last effort smile.

And she stood, left in his wake, waiting for someone to tell her to start breathing again.

Cloud didn't tell her to breathe, as he purposefully walked back over, his blond hair bobbing slightly as he moved. He watched where her gaze was, a slight crinkle in his brow. He just stood with her, waiting for her to speak.

"What are you looking at?" Yuffie broke the silence, giving him a harmless glare. He shrugged.

They were both of the same company again. She didn't now why she was relieved that the conflict of place and position had gone, but that had lingered on her mind. She was with the good people. Cloud was a good person...

"What did he want with you?" he replied, never one to answer questions. Especially from Yuffie.

"Just a dance," she whispered gazing back in the direction he left. Cloud didn't seem to notice.

"Care for another dance?"

"Ya, sure."


	2. Second Stanza: Barret

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Second Stanza: Barret Wallace

_Sleep, sleep happy child,  
All creation slept and smil'd;  
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,  
While o'er thee thy mother weep._

_Sweet babe, in thy face,  
Holy image I can trace.  
Sweet babe, once like thee,  
Thy maker lay and wept for me._

_- William Blake "Cradle Song"_

She was still so small, twirling in her garishly girly dress. Barret knew that he had only a precious few more years of her childhood like this. She was already ten years old; the single digit days had passed so quickly. He'd spent so much of her growing up period away, trying to make a difference in the world.

"Daddy?" she asked expectantly, tugging on his hand, "One more dance, puh-leeeze?" He smiled at her. She was going to be quite a heart breaker, that was for sure. So convincing, and with a bat of her pretty little eyes, she'd have anything she wanted.

"Ya, baby," he replied, taking her other hand, "But jus' one more, ok? Daddy's gettin a little tired." She smiled impishly at him and twirled around. His little girl wanted to be a dancer, for some reason. She'd held onto that thought for quite some time, pleading with him every year for the right shoes, the right dress...

It was funny how she'd picked up the idea. She had seen Tifa training one morning, doing her stretches and practice jabs and kicks. Marlene had been six or so at the time, and he hadn't exposed her to the idea of fighting. She had clapped her hands cheered Tifa on, saying it was the prettiest dance she had ever seen.

He took his gaze off his daughter for a moment, searching out the woman in question. He didn't get to see her himself as much these days, but Marlene certainly did. He'd been thankful that Tifa had such a way with children, and had taken care of his girl for so long. She was the very reason his girl didn't end up boyish and strange... for Tifa was a lady, in his mind, always would be.

Marlene let go of one of his hands, spinning around and around. She giggled as she did this, always happy to be moving.

His eyes finally rested on Tifa, who was sitting at a table, head propped on her elbow. She was laughing, and he could see the flame tip of Nanaki's tail peeking up over the tablecloth. Vincent sat across from her, an amused look on his face.

_Why does he hang around so much? Does he really have nothin better ta do?_

He thought Tifa's face looked natural laughing, or smiling. He'd seen it drawn and sad too many times to wish it on her. She looked natural when she was beautiful. And there was nothing more beautiful than her face when she was happy, except maybe his daughter's smile.

He couldn't help but let out a breath; long and slow. If only Marlene knew all the things he'd given up for her. Maybe he would tell her one day, after she was grown up with children of her own. So he could hold onto her a little longer.

"Daddy, the song's over," Marlene's voice brought him back to the present, with her adorably morose tone. He shook his head and smiled at her.

"Maybe you should go an' bother Aunt Tifa," he suggested, gesturing towards the woman, who was in another fit of laughter.

_Pawnin yo daughter off on her again? I need ta think anyway._

"Ok Daddy!" she exclaimed, bounding her way to Tifa, who greeted her with a warm smile.

It was then that he allowed himself to frown, to let his real mood set in. As long as Marlene was nearby, Barret could never really feel down. But the truth was, his spirits were low, especially on a day like this.

_Damn Cid's married, and I can't git over the one thing I'll never have._

Another laugh from Tifa's direction, this time it was Marlene. Whatever story Nanaki must be concocting was a good one.

He stalked off, narrowly avoiding bumping into Yuffie and Cloud; who were dangerous on the dance floor. He felt exposed out there, alone and towering over the others. He felt exposed most of the time, having a robotic hand with a gun hidden inside didn't help.

He sat down at an empty table, with an exhausted huff. He hadn't lied to Marlene, he _was_ a bit tired. Though more from his own thoughts more than anything else.

He was looking off in her direction again, that woman had a magnetism that was unparalleled. And he was jealous of every man sitting around her, as Reeve soon joined the table.

_Git a grip. She's close to being a mom to yo daughter, but far from bein yo wife._

He had held illusions about it at one time, just after Cloud and she had their final fight. After the whole hero shine had worn off. She'd come crying to him about that foolish boy, her smile and laughter all but lost. He wanted to pump him full of lead for doing that to her. And she'd asked him if anyone would ever love her, if anyone gave a damn.

But he'd let the moment pass. He couldn't burden her with the life he had to give. He was her friend, her confidante. Never her lover.

_Then why do ya still regret it?_

"Barret?" her soft voice greeted him, and when he looked up, her radiant smile, "Why are you out here by yourself?" He shrugged.

"Jus' needed ta rest," he replied, keeping his mood out of his voice, "She's a real ball of energy sometimes." Tifa nodded knowingly.

"Well that ball of energy thought I should come over and ask you to dance," she added slyly, with that warm and friendly voice he was used to. She was so comfortable around him. He found himself nodding before his brain registered what she said.

"Great!" she said, tugging at his arm in a manner all too familiar, "Just one, and I'll let you have a good long rest." He smirked.

It was a fast tune, though not particularly cheerful. There was something almost frantic in the music, but it seemed to suit Tifa quite well. His daughter had to learn her more endearing traits from somewhere.

Laughing, smiling, spinning... he was nearly euphoric for a moment, just dancing with her, being close to her. She narrowly missed the disaster twins, Cloud and Yuffie, on one particularly flailing spin. Yet she still had that odd sort of grace, that quiet Sunday morning feeling she usually left him with.

He had another memory to lock away, to savor. He would always be her friend, no matter the circumstances, but it was the precious few times like this that he felt like he could touch her, and she would touch him back. That running his human fingers through her hair would only make her pull him closer.

"Whew," Tifa gasped in between breaths, "I might be getting too old for that." He laughed with her at the absurdity of such a statement. For Tifa never grew old, not really. She just lost a little color, a little vibrancy.

And with a pat of his arm, the contact was broken. He felt colder for it.

"I'll leave you alone now," she teased, giving him a wink, "Go rest you old bear."

_Old bear. Guess I'll jus hafta live bein that. _

And she sauntered off, as he watched her short and curvaceous form fade back into the table that seemed to miss her presence.

Marlene waved at him, with hands that were growing bigger every time he held her hand. There were some things worth holding onto, and they made all that he couldn't that much more bearable.

His little girl was going to be quite a heartbreaker some day... she'd learned from the best.


	3. Third Stanza: Reeve

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Third Stanza: Reeve Rabczowski

_I do not know which to prefer,  
The beauty of inflections  
Or the beauty of innuendoes,  
The blackbird whistling  
Or just after._

- Wallace Stevens _Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird_

Reeve was a mingler, despite many people's impressions that he was socially inept. If they knew what Shinra had been, they would know that the socially inept didn't last long. There was a certain beauty to laying low, to saying nothing with a smile. With his neatly trimmed hair and beard, and otherwise unremarkable appearance, he'd managed to live while all the others had gone up in flames. The ideal employee was just a shadow of a person, a glimmer of a conversation.

Of course, in many ways, he was socially inept. Only a very observant person would notice that he never started a conversation on his own. That he avoided most social occasions altogether. His true personality was reclusive; tinkering with ideas and toys. He liked the company of children, however. They were so free of adult ideas and worries. They just talked with you because they wanted to.

Especially little Marlene. Who wasn't so little anymore, from the striking conversation they had been having.

"Mr. Reeve, why aren't you dancing?" she asked, swinging her legs as she sat in the chair. She was always a petite child, he noted, even now. She probably wouldn't grow much higher than five feet or so.

"Oh, I just don't feel like it," he replied, absently pulling at the hair on his chin. She giggled.

"But everyone likes dancing!" she exclaimed and crossed her arms, "You're probably just scared." He gave her a mock look of incredulity. He actually knew how to dance, someone had taught him a long time ago how to dance... he just didn't want to remember, maybe. No, he didn't feel like it, truly. And he had no partner.

"But who would I dance with, hmm?" he said, with a tone that made her frown for a moment. He could tell she was thinking... she was quite a clever girl. She tapped her chin and knitted her eyebrows, as she scanned the crowd.

Maybe he had her. There were no ladies for him to dance with. Cid didn't let anyone dance with Shera, Tifa was dancing with Barret at the moment, and Yuffie... well, he didn't want to go there. She and Cloud were still creating a disturbance, to say the least.

Then Marlene started giggling, and Reeve knew that she had a plan.

"Me, silly!" she said between giggles, "Daddy won't mind. He says you aren't Shinra scum anymore." Reeve laughed at her honesty. She certainly had a way with words. He glanced over at Barret, who was swinging around with Tifa, smiling wider than Reeve had seen in awhile.

Marlene tugged at his hand, and they were up. She preferred twirling around him, one hand gripped with his, and he helped spin her. He ended up not doing much dancing himself, mostly watching out for potential collisions, and keeping near the table. He was sure that Barret would come back sometime soon. And before the song even ended, he led her back, smiling that she had won yet another dance partner.

She sat down and waved, seeing that Barret was free. He didn't come and join them however, and Reeve could see the beginnings of a pout in her lips. But then she turned her attention to their table mates, whom Reeve had forgotten. He was back in a place he was comfortable; in the background.

Their laughter echoed in his mind, fading into the hum that his brain created when he was left to his own thoughts. He'd never been one for the music they played at such parties, in fact, he much preferred the newer things that he'd heard just outside of clubs he thought of walking in. Of people he thought of meeting. A technological buzz of rhythm and sounds that only the electric and artificial inventions of man had made. Real instruments were too organic; he needed something that was as much of a machine as he was.

A machine. Who had given him that title? Oh, her of course. But she didn't matter anymore. She was finally free; death did such things for the wicked.

"Uncomfortable too?" a voice spoke from his elbow. He blinked and realized it was just Nanaki. The beast still startled him once in a while, even though he knew that he was intelligent. Some things one never did get fully used to.

"Just thinking," Reeve replied, as Nanaki shifted to more comfortable lounge, "I'm glad things have settled down. Everyone seems a little happier now." Nanaki's tail curled into a question mark shape; a relaxed and careful form.

"Perhaps," he replied, and yawned, "But you humans have an odd way of celebrating. This dancing, and mingling, and chatting... seems a waste of time to me."

Why were parties so dull? Why did he always feel so out of the loop? Was the background such a good place anymore?

"You're right," Reeve murmured, staring off into space, "Odd traditions, I suppose. But there is certainly something special about the dancing..."

She'd been bored when she taught him. She was perpetually bored. Scarlet, the witch, the harlot, the weapons specialist... had been a wonderful dancer. Her specialty was the tango, an intimate and risqué dance the encompassed all that he knew about her. A tease, a temptress, a coldly intelligent woman. Each step was precise and calculated, each move flowed with the rustle of her silk dress; she practiced with him, honing the skills she would use to make a kill. She had trusted him because he feared her. He trusted her because...

_She was there. And listened. Probably plotting my downfall, but we can have our illusions. Maybe I did care, Scarlet. You used to be so clever._

"My kind do not have such things," Nanaki said, with a twitch of his ear, "Maybe you could tell me about it?" The beast was still a child in many ways, that was something Vincent had told him once in passing. But Reeve was still a child himself.

"It depends on the company," Reeve began, pulling on his beard, "Different people mean different interactions."

Marlene always twirled in his mind like a ballerina in a music box. A timeless piece of innocence; a reminder of a world that hadn't ended.

"Some are friendly, some are obligatory," he recited, a tired and old song he sang with speeches and orders, "And some are more intimate. Very few people ever experience that." Nanaki smirked in that strange feline manner.

Always in red, perpetuating an image that allowed her seamless access into all their lives. She had approached him at usually dull party, and he grudgingly waltzed with her, feeling bored and alone. Later it was swaying to relaxed tunes with similar steps.

But he'd always remember the way she tangoed, kicking her spike heels in the air, and throwing back her head, splaying that bright blond hair. That look in her icy blue eyes as she finally got someone's attention. That was all he was for, a partner to attract the others. It always worked because she looked so beautiful when she tangoed... she looked free of the restraints she had given herself...

_I need to break free of you, Scarlet. Of all those past lives and faces._

"So it's not much different that most human interaction?" Nanaki asked, a bemused expression across his features. He probably saw the dark look in Reeve's face when memory flooded in. He'd been with the devil on enough occasions, and he knew that the devil had so many faces...

"No, not much different at all," he said, looking him straight in the eye, "Surely there is something you can relate to there?" The cat nodded, with a knowing glance.

"In time," he said, and stretched, "For now, I'll just watch." And he padded off, ears perked forward curiously as he made his way to the table where Barret sat alone.

_I have to stop this hiding... I can't keep this up anymore, this silly charade. _

And he got up from the table. Slowly he walked to the middle of the floor. Slowly he raised his arms in the air. And then the music he always listened to pulsed in his head.

He began a fast and crazed dance to a beat he worked to. A fast and flailing dance. One that left many people staring...

_Here I am! The clown, the spy, the outsider!_

He was the only one moving, and he loved it; his heart was pounding, his breath was quick in his throat. He tried every move that he wanted to let everyone see, every move he had taught himself. No more archaic steps with a partner. This was a frantic and fast and solo art.

And abruptly he stopped, seeing that everyone was staring at him. And he bowed, grinning like mad.

Marlene was clapping and laughing, and soon the others joined with scattered applause. It was Cloud who approached him first, a bewildered look on his face.

"What was that?" the former leader asked, with a slight whisper of admiration. Reeve smiled.

"Break dancing," he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow, "Just something I picked up one day. Maybe not appropriate..."

"Could you teach me how to do that?" he asked quickly and then cleared his throat, "Some other time..."

He never knew the reasons why he did the things he did. He'd been on so many different sides for so many different causes. But he didn't really feel like worrying about it so much anymore. His inner self was still a child; foolish at best.

Maybe he just needed to break out.

"Sure," he replied, trying to contain his grin, "We need better music anyway."


	4. Fourth Stanza: Shera

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Fourth Stanza: Shera MacDowell-Highwind

_I am a scrap of wood thrown in your fire,  
And quickly reduced to smoke._

_I saw you and became empty  
This emptiness, more beautiful than existence,  
It obliterates existence, and yet when it comes,  
Existence thrives and creates more existence!_

- Rumi _Buoyancy_

The spectacle had given her an idea. A delicious and terrible idea. And he would have to deal with it, every last bit of it. Because this was _her_ day, and no grumpy old pilot was going to convince her otherwise. He had told her so, only hours before, that if anyone "pissed on yer fire, they'd have Hell ta pay." Not that she entirely knew what that meant _exactly_, but she understood the sentiment all the same.

"No," Cid stated firmly, pressing his index finger into the tablecloth, "Dontcha get any damn ideas."

She pouted at him, crossing her arms. They knew each other too well, that was certain. He could catch her good ideas before they even passed across her face. Nearly telepathic, if not for the fact he still did occasionally do things that made her angry. Not that she'd complain...

"Please," she whispered placing her hand lightly on his, "Just this once." He frowned, but she could feel his fingers relaxing under hers.

"I said no," he replied, turning so he couldn't look at her. She almost had him, she could tell. She just had to play her trump card. And what a trump card she had.

"Cid, I had your _son_," she said, soft and firm, "This is the least you could do for me." He didn't look at her right away, but instead looked over at her trump card; a blond haired boy of six who was currently playing with Elmyra. His jaw tightened, but his hand relaxed more.

She had him. She tried to hide the smirk that would certainly grace her face, but failed. He over at her and scowled.

"Yer gonna enjoy this ain't ya?" he muttered, with a few underhanded metaphors between breaths, "Makin' a damn fool of yer husband and all..."

_Husband. Sounds so strange still. You used to hate looking at me. _

"Cid. C'mon, it's not like we haven't done it before," she replied, with that soothing tone she had become expert at with him. His mouth twitched into a quick grin. She blushed.

_I didn't mean **that**..._

He stood up quickly, like he was going to lose his nerve. He probably would, if she didn't act quickly. She'd been dying to embarrass him with this secret, this hidden talent that only seemed to occur while he was in the shower...

"Dammit woman," he said impatiently, "I'm not the only one who'll be made a fool of." She smiled coolly at him, with a confidence that she'd learn to mirror off of his. He gritted his teeth and grabbed her wrist, proceeding to half drag her towards the band.

They passed by, a blur of light green and white and black, past the faces of friends that didn't quite know what to expect out of them. She could hear their comments as they passed and she grinned to herself, knowing that it hadn't even begun. One particular whisper made her chuckle:

"Please don't tell me that human mating rituals are public," Nanaki muttered at Tifa's elbow. She giggled.

"Only if they have consumed too much alcohol," Vincent replied nonchalantly, face hiding the humor in the statement.

Tifa lost it, and Shera could still hear her laughter as they made it to the front of the dance floor, close to the band. They had taken a quick break, and were just beginning to set things up again.

"I need ta barrow that," Cid said, pointing to the lonely microphone on the stand in front of the small band. The leader, presumably, nodded. Cid then motioned for the man to come closer and whispered something in his ear. The man grinned widely.

"Sure thing," he said, and had a few words with the rest of the band.

"Which one?" she asked, feeling a little nervous for a moment. He grinned.

"You'll know it right away," he said, and then frowned, "At least ya'd better."

And the band began to play. He was right, she did know this one, and was again surprised that he'd remembered. She needed to give him more credit, once in a while. He closed his eyes, and she could see a little bit of sweat trickle down his temple as he held the microphone between them.

"I know I stand in line, until you think you have the time," they belted out, with a little uncertainty, "To spend an evening with me"

They both were terrible dancers; only the very slow songs ever merited them on the dance floor. But Shera had discovered that Cid could sing. And she had kept that secret for a long long time.

"_And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance,_" they continued, steadying in their duetted parts, "_You won't be leaving with me._"

She always could sing decently; her parents were good churchgoer types, and they insisted that she join the choir since she was quite young. He'd caught her while in the hangar, fitting some parts that he'd needed. He'd been ready to tell her off, too, but he stopped when he realized it wasn't a radio.

"_And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place,_" their parts were smoother, more fluid, and everyone was certainly watching now, "_And have a drink or two._"

She'd always thought he looked like an old crooner, with his impossibly blue eyes and square jaw. He especially looked the part when he cleaned up a bit, as he was now. The white dress jacket and black pants were odd looking—but in a good way. He wasn't wearing a tie, though. Some things would probably never happen.

"_And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid,_" their voices melted together, and some toes were tapping, "_Like: 'I love you'._"

She could almost laugh at this song, at times, now that they were married. All that uncertainly, all that unease... it was still there, but now they had reasons. Everyday silly sorts of reasons. But he'd slipped once, and she'd been there to make him live up to it.

"_I can see it in your eyes, that you despise the same old lies,_

_You heard the night before._"

She didn't need to really think about the words of the song anymore. They'd sung it once, granted he was a bit drunk, but they both knew it by heart. He snuck a listen to songs like this like a child sneaks candy. She loved it when he pretended. She could keep him as her secret that way.

"_And though it's just a line to you, for me it's true_

_It never seemed so right before._"

And he still had his eyes closed, but he was enjoying it. It was natural for birds to sing. Even grizzly old Grosbeaks had a lovely tune.

"_I practice every day to find some clever lines to say_

_To make the meaning come through._"

But here _she_ was, mousy old Shera, singing along with him. Because she had been consumed by him a long time ago, and had given up everything. He had been gloriously proud and beautiful in his youth, that was for certain. But she liked him better now, with his eyes closed, letting his voice make pleasant sounds for once.

"_But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late_

_And I'm alone with you._"

Of course, he'd given up everything right back. He wouldn't be standing next to her otherwise.

"_The time is right your perfume fills my head, the stars get red_

_And oh the night's so blue._"

She didn't know if that was dancing or swaying she saw amongst his friends—her friends—but there was movement. And a giant smile on her, their, son's face. He looked so much like him, except the eyes. He had her eyes. She was glad to see that she had something in him after all.

"_And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid_

_Like 'I love you'._"

It was ending soon, and she was almost sad about it. She knew she'd never get him in front of people again. He was so stubborn sometimes. So so stubborn.

"_I love you._"

Such a stubborn old man.

"_I love you._"

_Her_ stubborn old man. And he had finished. Maybe she heard some clapping, and some laughter. She couldn't tell. He'd opened his eyes.

"Will ya leave me alone about it now?" he said, giving her a defiant stare. She nodded, too lost in the lines around his mouth. And he smiled, leaning in nearer.

"I _could_ do this again sometime," he whispered in her ear, and her mouth dropped open. He grinned wider, and got closer to her ear.

"But this time I want a daughter," he whispered, causing her to giggle. There was always something he wanted. Good thing she was younger than him. He turned away from her a clenched his fists.

"Alright! I don't want ta hear one word out of ya goddamn idiots!" he yelled at some whoops and calls from Yuffie's general direction.

Some things never change. At least he quit smoking.

He felt around in his pockets and pulled out a familiar box. A box she thought she had gotten rid of.

_I thought I smelled cigarettes... you dirty little..._

He smiled at her before lighting it, before striding with all the pride he had left to his seat at the table. And she followed, happy to know that he'd have to quit again, when she held up her end of the bargain. A daughter it would be then.

* * *

Song courtesy of Frank Sinatra. Called "Something Stupid" appropriately. This chapter inspired by Dominus. 


	5. Fifth Stanza: Nanaki

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Fifth Stanza: Nanaki son of Seto

_The apparition of these faces in the crowd;_

_Petals on a wet, black bough._

**- **Ezra Pound _In the Station of the Metro_

Nanaki had learned much more about human behavior than he'd cared to this afternoon. Much much more. But he was still curious, ever curious about them. He didn't know how short their lives would really be, and for the moment, the thought didn't bother him as much. People were just flickers in his lifetime, but brilliant flickers indeed.

He'd slunk away from the table where he felt most comfortable; that nagging curiosity wouldn't let him stay in one place too long. He wanted to get a better look at the bigger picture, to _see_ with his own eyes the intricate web of _human relations._

Normally, one of his race wouldn't give more than a passing glance and a snort at such a thing. But he'd been raised with humans, and Grandfather had been right... he was still a cub in many respects. And that had been the kind of thinking that lead his race to a near extinction; too proud to accept that the planet held more than their own warrior clans.

_Near extinction. Still holding unto that hope?_

Perhaps he was a bit naïve to believe that he wasn't the last. But he'd been reading, searching for clues that some had survived the war, just away from the Canyon. He'd enlisted the help of someone else who was as seemingly immortal as he. Despite the difficulty it would cause the man, he was secretly glad that someone would be around for his lifetime.

Even someone as cool and aloof as Vincent Valentine.

He'd settled near an empty table on the opposite side of the dance floor where he'd been previously. He could see most everyone now, and he smirked at the good fortune at finding such a spot alone.

Reeve had surprised him, ever since he had first met the man in person. Sure, Vincent was a guarded and strange man, but Reeve was something else entirely. Like he was split in two, not completely one thing or the other. He was a bridge, to enemies that had their own problems and complications, and to a group of people that had been haphazardly labeled "good guys". It had to be a difficult position, to be certain, but the man seemed unfazed by it.

In fact, he had just made a sort of spectacle of himself. Puzzling.

As he looked over at Reeve now, he saw the man telling some story animatedly to Marlene, and soon Wright, as Cid's likeness came wandering over to see the clownish man's antics. He would have to listen in on one of those stories sometime, when he felt like "mingling" again.

Now he turned his attention to Barret, who was still sitting by himself as he had left him earlier. He didn't seem particularly happy, but not particularly sad either. He was in a way resigned, eyes flicking between Marlene and Tifa. Making sure his girls were alright, Nanaki supposed. The man had merely grunted a hello when he had pestered him earlier, giving Nanaki the signal to go back to the friendly table, where all the laughter seemed to be coming from.

Tifa's table, in other words. He'd never quite understood how she seemed to affect a mood so much. But then again, he'd heard that females did cause an interesting tension. Even Yuffie had that somewhat, when she wasn't causing trouble. Or in some cases, more of an effect.

"Boo!" a high female voice screeched from behind him. He flicked his tail.

"Yuffie, you should know that you do not scare me," he said with a bored tone, secretly smirking to himself. She let out an exasperated sigh.

"Some my super cool ninja stalking skills don't work with ya?" she replied, moving into his view. He should have known that he wouldn't be left alone for long. He probably knew her best, though she wouldn't admit it. As the "teenagers" they had a sort of understanding. She wasn't so much of a teenager anymore, and then neither was he. They were somewhere in between.

"So you've relinquished Cloud for the moment?" he asked, nearly laughing at the blush that crept onto her face for an instant. She shook her head and it was gone, replaced by a haughty smile.

"Ya, well, I don't need anymore injuries," she said, plopping down in a seat next to him, "He's dangerous." He'd always felt that an appropriate title for Cloud. Not that he didn't like the man, he was a good man, but there was always that air about him. He'd seen it in Aeris mostly, as she talked with him, and in Tifa, as she watched him. Complicated as any could get. He silently wished that Yuffie wasn't so attracted to dangerous men.

"You should be more careful," he said, without thinking, something that he seemed to do less in her presence, "You weren't just dancing with Cloud." She frowned, crossing her arms in front of her.

"What would you know?" she stated defiantly, and then softened her tone, "Thanks anyway." He didn't really have a place to give her warnings; he wasn't even human. But she was perhaps the most... impressionable out of them. He couldn't help but feel slightly protective of her. Especially since he knew that she'd been in contact with the ex-Turks: one in particular.

"Just remember who they are," he said, lowering his voice, "And what they have been." She stared off into space for a moment, and then smiled at him.

"Have you ever thought of being a shrink?" she mused, smirking in that terribly endearing fashion, "Ya'd make a ton of gil." He gave her a toothy Cheshire grin.

"Yes, and who would come to something that looks so," he replied, dropping the grin, "Inhuman?" She tapped her chin, considering that for a moment.

"Point," she replied, and jumped up from her seat. Somehow, he had no doubt that she'd gotten an idea, and when she tugged gently on his tail, he was certain that it wasn't good.

"Wanna go tease Vinnie? Or Tiff?" she said devilishly, "Or maybe even Cid. Naw, too easy." He arched back into a standing position. He was feeling mischievous, and she always provided him with the perfect opportunity. He'd almost agreed to go to Wutai with her once, to learn "the art of sneakiness" as she put it. Maybe ruffle a few "stuck up old fogies" feathers. But he missed his home too much. And Wutai was so very far away.

Now, though, he felt like testing a theory of his. Reeve had put the idea in his head, though it probably wasn't the man's intent, and he was curious to see what it would result it.

"Certainly. I know just who could use a little..." he said, turning an ear, "...prodding." Yuffie stifled a cackle, and shifted her weight.

"Are you thinkin what I'm thinkin?" she asked, looking over at Tifa's table. Vincent was saying something quietly, and Reeve had once again joined the adults. Tifa was currently entertaining him, drawing things in the air as she spoke. Yuffie grinned more.

"Most likely not," he replied, padding towards the dance floor again, "But the sentiment is the same." She rolled her eyes and followed. He took up station between Reeve and Vincent, while Yuffie sat down on Vincent's other side, between him and Tifa.

"Nice dancin, Reeve," Yuffie said, giving the man a nod, "And how's it goin Tiff?" The woman smiled and turned to face her. Nanaki, however, concentrated on Vincent. The man had gone back to being silent, and seemed a bit more uncomfortable with the addition of more people around the table. The muscles in his jaw seemed to tense in particular.

_Wait, I can see his jaw. Almost didn't notice that he had taken that cloak off._

Oh, this certainly was going to be a great experiment indeed. Little observations like this were just adding to the number of things he'd learned about _human relations_. Now it was time to plant the idea, while Yuffie had Tifa distracted.

"Reeve, so dancing is a form of human interaction," Nanaki said smoothly, and the man turned to him and nodded, "Than why were you dancing alone?" Reeve smiled and leaned down a little so he could talk properly.

"Well, sometimes people just need to make a statement," he said glancing over at the dance floor, "Some times you need to be alone to do it." Nanaki nodded but the wheels in his head were turning.

_Oh, you'll work just fine. You're neutral enough._

"Well, could you indulge me for a moment," he said, tail twitching momentarily, "And dance with Tifa?" Reeve furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Why?" he replied skeptically, as Nanaki's flame tip danced lazily behind him.

"Nothing much. Just an idea," the beast replied smoothly, "I'm still curious about dancing. And Tifa is your friend, no?" Reeve's skeptical gaze did not waver.

"I'm not interested," he said quietly, hoping that the woman in question wasn't listening, "I don't need any set ups." Nanaki smirked.

_That's not the idea._

"Trust me," Nanaki murmured, and oddly enough, winking at him, "I know you like blondes." Reeve blinked but managed a smile. He nodded, and Nanaki went back to observing the others. Vincent appeared to have been off somewhere else during the conversation, but when Nanaki looked over at him, his eyes narrowed slightly. He had to keep from chuckling at the man's apparent suspicion.

"And then Godo was standing over me, with that disapproving look in his eyes—"

Yuffie had been chattering away at Tifa, who had patiently listened to the young woman's stories. But true to his word, Reeve cut in to ask her for a quick dance. She seemed surprised, but not wholly opposed to the idea. Yuffie was like a younger sister to her, but sometimes the girl could talk and talk and _talk_...

...A fact that Nanaki himself was quite familiar with.

But Nanaki hadn't watched Tifa and Reeve get up to go to the dance floor; he'd been watching the barest trance of a frown on Vincent's face. The music was lively and cheerful, perfect for a casual sort of dance between two fairly skilled dancers. Yuffie made some odd comment about Reeve needing a girl or something, and Nanaki could swear he heard a light snort from Vincent's direction. But he soon he was distracted as another person approached the table.

"Hey guys..." Cloud said with a friendly tone, and then glanced over at the dance floor, "...Is Tifa dancing with Reeve?"

Human interaction was such a fun thing. It was intricate, for certain. Intriguing as any book he'd ever read. Psychology, sociology... whatever scientific label they'd put on it... these sort of things always fascinated Nanaki.

"Ya, they seem to be having _such_ a good time too," Yuffie said, directing her comment in Nanaki's direction. Cloud scratched behind his ear.

So much tension and so much worry amongst them. Did they not know how relatively short a life they really had?

"Well of course, Yuffie," Nanaki said, prodding some more interesting interactions, "Tifa's the best dancer of the _ladies_. It's a wonder that Cloud hasn't danced with her yet." Yuffie scowled at him, and he knew she would probably yell at him about it later. But it was for her own good; she just didn't realize it yet.

Such bright flashes in the long dark tunnel of the ages.

"Nuh-uh! I'm a _wonderful_ dancer!" she protested, standing up from her seat, "Cloud's the _terrible_ one." The man in question rolled his eyes at the statement.

He would miss them all terribly when the time came. Hopefully they would _all_ have children. Little versions of them sounded good at the moment.

"You don't believe me?" she continued, her tirade far from over, "Fine! I'll dance with... Vinnie!" The man visibly flinched, and Nanaki had to bite his inner cheek to keep from laughing.

Yes, lots of children would be nice. He just hoped they would all find someone for a mate, in order to do so. Maybe around the time he found himself a mate...

"No."

He'd just made things a little more interesting.

"Aww! C'mon Vinnie!"

"Yuff, maybe you should leave him alone..."

"I do not dance. Period."

This was going to be fun to watch. Yuffie and he should team up more often.


	6. Sixth Stanza: Rude

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Sixth Stanza: Rudra Kumar

_The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.  
Don't go back to sleep.  
You must ask for what you really want.  
Don't go back to sleep.  
People are going back and forth across the doorsill  
where the two worlds touch.  
The door is round and open.  
Don't go back to sleep._

- Rumi _Spring Giddiness_

Rude saw two benefits to following Reno with this crazy idea for once. And only two. One: he would be there when he friend surely made an ass of himself, and make sure to get him out of whatever sticky mess that state of being would cause.

And two...

He got to watch Tifa again. Not that he was obsessed with her; a notion he had entertained once. But she was still quite beautful. A man couldn't help but notice that.

But right now he was almost nervous, because Reno _hadn't_ made an ass of himself. And he'd even talked with that Kisaragi girl, hell, _danced_ with her, and still managed to come back with all parts in tact. And he'd watched through his binoculars the look that Cloud had given him. Sometimes that man was just so... intense. Not that he was ever truly frightened of him, but somehow he wished that he would at least scare Reno. It would simplify things.

He shook his head. He'd been analyzing things far too much again. It was the true curse of the less than loquacious.

Yet, he felt he had reason to worry. Especially now that Reno was planning on going back to the party.

"Smug bastard!" Reno snorted, pacing back and forth, "I oughta show him what a Turk is _really_ made of!" Rude tried to suppress the image of Reno being sliced in half by Cloud's overly large sword. But he'd never been good at keeping such things at bay.

"Reno," he replied, a statement that could mean several things. And luckily, his partner didn't really have to ask anymore.

"Whatever. I'm not being stupid," Reno answered, alternatively thinking and brushing him off, "It's not like I started anything in there." Rude stared at him through the sunglasses, a look that would bore a hole through someone's head if he were to have lasers for eyes. Now that was a thought...

"Then why do you need to go back?" Rude said, catching Reno off guard. Sometimes Rude felt the need to be direct, and with he'd learned that with Reno, he needed to be direct. The man's red hair dye probably produced near ultraviolet waves; which in turn made him a complete idiot at times. Idiotic enough to dye naturally red hair, _redder_.

Not that he'd ever tell Reno that.

But for now, it seemed like he was really thinking, maybe even weighing the consequences for once. Either that or the alcohol he'd frantically chugged from his flask was making him sick. He really hoped that latter wasn't true; he'd just gotten new shoes.

"...'Cause she didn't tell 'Laney goodbye," Reno whispered finally, giving Rude a glance that affirmed the seriousness of his tone.

Well, that made sense. His little brother _had_ done some growing up.

He'd almost forgotten that Elena wasn't with them. Yes, the chatter was down, but her presence was still keenly felt. She'd settled down in Wutai, of all places, married a local fisherman and had a kid on the way. That was nearly a year ago when she'd told them she was tired of wandering. Best thing for her, really, she needed a chance to get living.

Which brought him back to the issue at hand: Miss Yuffie Kisaragi. The very reason Elena had been in Wutai and met her husband. Their old wandering partner; the ninja without a purpose. Ran into her somewhere in the Mideel area, as she tried to rob them blind of any Materia-like substance they had. Nearly three years ago, in fact.

She had fit in just fine. For what were the Turks without a Shinra?

But she had disappeared, just after they'd been frequenting Wutai. Gods know why. Kinda shook Elena up a bit, for certain. He only guessed that keeping company with two men wasn't the most pleasant of times for her. Women always seemed to latch onto each other though, something he'd never really understood.

"Maybe we should just get her away from the others," Rude suggested, clearing his mind of past events for the moment, "No use causing any more problems." Reno smirked at his statement, and somehow Rude didn't really want to know what he was going to say.

"What, you don't want to have a word with Strife, yourself?" he said slyly, grinning at the involuntary twitch in Rude's mouth.

_Asshole. You know very well how I feel about that._

He didn't want to worry about AVALANCHE. He had enough problems with his own friends, his own kind, to worry about. But no matter how hard he'd tried not to, he'd seen the way Tifa's face dimmed a little when Strife came by. Something had happened, and it didn't seem like Tifa was happy about it. And he couldn't help but be a little worried about her.

He glanced up at the cloudless sky for a moment. For some reason, he half expected there to be something else approaching. A storm, perhaps.

"After this is over," Rude finally answered, resting his sunglasses atop his head and bringing the binoculars to his eyes, "I don't like crashing parties."

_Unlike you._

They hadn't even come here for Yuffie. They didn't even know that there was some event that would have the majority of their previous antagonists in this particular part of the world. They were just passing by really, when Reno heard the music. And did he ever have a nose for free booze...

He finally had her in the sights of the binoculars, was relieved to see that Tifa didn't have that uneasy expression on her face anymore. From his voyeuristic standpoint, she looked like she was having some fun; dancing actually. And the guy wasn't Strife. Somehow he was relieved. They changed positions and he saw that she was dancing with...

_Reeve?_

He didn't see that coming. Then again, he didn't see any of this coming. He didn't think that Reno would crash a party, and unwittingly fall into the middle of an AVALANCHE reunion of some kind. He didn't expect that Elena would fall for some random Wutain guy and settle down. He never predicted that he would spend most of his afternoon looking through binoculars, watching a woman who'd always be on the wrong side.

Hell, he didn't expect to still be wandering around, wondering if freedom was worth it in the end.

Then again, what sides were there anymore? What really was the problem... were they all really so different? Weren't they all just people?

And when would he learn to teach his mind to shut up?

"Reno," he said abruptly, interrupting the other man's attempt to find a cigarette, "Do you think she's worth it?" Reno looked at him like he had just told him that his mother was Jenova and he wanted to go find the Promised Land. Had Rude been any other sort of person, he might have laughed at him.

"The hell...?" he replied, unlit cigarette bobbing in his mouth, "...Which one of us are ya talkin about?" He had to hand it to him... Reno had good instincts.

"Both," he replied, lowering the binoculars and putting his sunglasses in their usual position. Reno smirked.

"I dunno yet," he said, his voice oddly quiet, "That's what I'm here ta find out." Now it was Rude's turn to smirk.

_I thought you were holding something back, you rat. I guess we've both been fooling ourselves._

He probably wouldn't have that "chat" with Strife. He knew that. He may not even speak to Tifa, but then again, he had few words for those who didn't already know him. She probably still held that grudge against Reno, at the very least, and him by extension. He didn't know why he was flying head first into this storm...

...But something told him that for whatever reason, it was worth it.

"Let's just wait a little longer," Rude said quietly, still looking for clouds, "Not like we should rush into this." Reno leaned back, his cigarette finally lit, and stretched out his lanky legs.

"Not like we've got anywhere else ta be..."

"..."

* * *

I always thought Rude looked a bit Indian, so I gave him an Indian name. Look up Rudra, I dare ya. And yes, I'm going off of the game, so he's attracted to Tifa. Don't worry, she's doesn't have _every_ guy after her. Just a select few. See if you can guess already. And Yuffie's got some too. But Tifa's my muse, so... ya. >.  



	7. Seventh Stanza: Cloud

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Seventh Stanza: Cloud Strife

_Man looking into the sea,_

_taking the view from those who have as much right to it as you have to _

_yourself,_

_it is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing,_

_but you cannot stand in the middle of this;_

_the sea has nothing to give but a well excavated grave._

- Marianne Moore _A Grave_

Somehow, when he walked over, he got the distinct feeling he'd walked in on something. Like hearing the punchline of a joke without the lead-in. Not that he was ever one to mind feeling out of place; there wasn't often a time he wasn't. It was so strange that he didn't really even care _what_ was going on.

Heck, he'd spent half his time dancing with _Yuffie_. How stranger could things get?

"C'mon Vinnie!" Yuffie's voice cut through his conciousness, "Just one!" The subject of her almost whine just shook his head, no muscle below his neck moving. It would take a lot to get him to move, and whatever Yuffie was proposing was not in that list. He shot Cloud a momentary glance; something akin to pleading.

"You might want to help him out," Nanaki whispered below him, he hadn't noticed the cat sitting there.

_Well, I do owe ya one, Vin._

He gave the silent man a quick nod, and stealthily crept up behind her...

"You can't just sit around the whole time! How boring is that—"

...and grabbed her around the waist and picked her up.

"You jerk! Put me down! Whoever you—" she turned around and stared at him wide-eyed. Perhaps he had overdone it a little. But it had succeeded in distracting her for the moment. She looked like a fish now, with her mouth open, and he couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous expression.

She then frowned at him as she tried to wriggle free. Realizing that he could in fact overpower her with his pinky finger, she resorted to an old trick passed down through the centuries by the women of her clan...

She kicked him in the shin. Hard.

It didn't hurt as much as she probably intended it to, but it hurt enough for him to release his grip on her. She tumbled down, a flash of green and black, and landed with an unceremonious thud at his feet. His shin was throbbing now, but at least he had been afforded an interesting view for the moment.

_Was she wearing **black** underwear? Weird._

She quickly pulled down on her dress; face a deep red, mumbling about "indecent exposure" and the like. It was comical, for certain, and almost... charming. She was always so funny.

And he was smiling at her, something that only furthered the redness of her face. He found that odd, but didn't think much of it. Then he looked up, seeing if Vincent made his escape. He was still sitting in the same spot, but he was staring at something just behind Cloud, probably somewhere on the dance floor.

Somehow in all the confusion, he'd missed whatever had Vincent's rapt attention for the moment. So, he turned his head to look, and saw... Tifa. Dancing with Reeve of all people.

But the strangest part was he was missing a certain lurch that used to happen in his stomach. An old jealousy that used to happen anytime he saw a man _look_ at Tifa. He didn't feel particularly happy either, maybe just a little amused.

_Wow, she really did move on._

He'd been a little hesitant to come here, after the nearly explosive fight the two of them had been in. It hadn't been the last words spoken between them, thank gods, but it had left an impression. And from the threatening call he had gotten from Barret, Tifa had been devastated. He'd never meant to hurt her...

_...but dammit, you can't force someone to love you. And you can't live in the past._

"Cloud?" Yuffie muttered, standing now, "Hello?" He blinked, a little annoyed that he had been caught staring. If Barret saw, he'd have a few words to say. And from the expression on his face, Vincent might too. That jarred him a little, for he'd wanted to talk with the man.

"Sorry, just spaced out there," he replied, shrugging his shoulders and half-smiling, trying to play it off as less than it was. Yuffie didn't buy it, he could tell, but she had the grace to play along. They'd been around each other enough lately to lie convincing to each other. It was what he expected from most women, and Yuffie had grown plenty to prove she was a woman. And still herself. Odd.

He'd run into her in Costa del Sol, where he'd retreated to after leaving Tifa. She'd convinced him to take that job in the fighting ring. She probably ran the gambling organization that started it, for all he knew.

But this was perhaps the first time he'd caught her looking at him, with that odd expression on her face. The look she gave him for an instant, just after they'd played their parts.

But he didn't want to focus on her now. Maybe it was time to chat with Vincent, like he'd intended to when he walked over here.

"I'm gonna go talk with Vincent for now," he said to Yuffie, somehow not wanting to brush her off completely, "Guy stuff." She wrinkled her nose at him, and waved him off, already starting another conversation with Nanaki, in low and conspiratorial tones. He couldn't help but grin at her easy-going response. He still wasn't quite used to her.

_All women, hell, people, may be liars. But you, Yuffie Kisaragi, are something else too._

"Hey... Vincent... if you don't mind—"he began, a little nervous for some odd reason, but immediately stopped when the other man looked directly at him. Such a quick change in focus was startling with this man, with his red eyes and sharp features. A slight nervous laugh escaped his lips before he could say anything more.

"You wish to speak with me?" Vincent said, one of his eyebrows arching. Cloud relaxed, seeing no annoyance in his passive expression.

"I just wanted to discuss something," he replied, automatically taking on a more formal tone. He didn't fear Vincent. Nor did he dislike him. In fact, the man sort of grew on him... but he respected him. And he was, despite appearances, much his elder.

Vincent nodded, making no indication of moving. So, this would be the conditions of the conversation.

_But the others could hear... oh well. They either like or hate me know, depending on how close to Tifa they are. Can't do any more damage, I suppose._

He took a seat next to him, and noticed how much less crowded the table was now that Tifa had left. Only Yuffie and Nanaki now, and latter didn't even need a chair. Maybe Vincent had noticed that. Maybe this was all a setup. Maybe he was just getting paranoid.

"She seems to be doing well," he muttered, before he mind could think anything else to say. He hadn't come to talk with him about Tifa. He wanted to talk about...

...Aeris. That was it.

"She was always very good at seeming, was she not?" Vincent whispered, and clamped his mouth shut a little too quickly after saying so. Looks like he wasn't the only one whose mouth worked unbidden. Cloud smirked.

"Well, I wanted to ask you," he said, finally cutting the heart of the matter, "Did you ever find it? You know..." He trailed off, feeling a little silly at using such powerful words as his mind was thinking. He wasn't a wordsmith. He was a fighter. Inspiration came from the flickers of fear in his comrades' faces. When they needed a leader.

"That same old tired conversation," Vincent replied, startling Cloud a little at his quick reply, "Redemption... salvation. All such stated words." He wasn't looking at Cloud, but he wasn't really looking at anyone. He almost seemed like the man they had found in the coffin for a moment. And it was strange, considering he'd gotten used to the fact that he was... human.

"Ya. Do you think I've done enough?" he replied, hoping to keep Vincent on this track, "I've lived for _her_, do you think that's enough?" For perhaps the second time since he'd known him, Vincent cracked a dry smile.

"Oh, it is Aeris, then," he murmured, low and warm, "You still measure yourself according to your mistakes. I thought you had gotten past that."

_The hell...?_

He didn't expect this. He wanted a lecture on atonement or some advice on living with this... loneliness. Not this half-baked drivel that seemed so... so... he didn't have a word for that. But it wasn't what he'd wanted to hear.

But what had he wanted to hear?

"Vincent, don't you still live for Lucrecia?" he whispered, wanting to cross the line for once. He knew the story, he knew about this beautiful woman enough to know they had gone through similar things. He wanted that commonality.

"It is easier," he replied, idly tapping his finger in beat to the music, "To love the dead. To love a memory that has been unsoiled, unsullied by time. Does that not make sense?"

He remembered those words; for this wasn't the first time he had heard them. They were kinder now, coming from a neutral situation, on a warm Spring day. Even from someone who could be the coldest person in existence.

"_You'll always love her more, won't you? She doesn't cause problems, she doesn't forget to do the dishes... she's dead, Cloud! Gods do I miss her, but you can't keep living like this!"_

"_You just don't understand, Tifa. All you ever do is lie!"_

"_Go! Go wallow in your own self pity! I can't live like this..."_

Gods, he didn't want to remember that. He always messed things up. Always.

"Cloud, you knew her vitality," Vincent continued, still tapping his finger, "Do you think she would want you to waste your life, chasing her ghost?" He hated it when people were perceptive. He hated it even more when that perception proved him wrong. But he didn't feel angry... they had a commonality. And Vincent clearly had a secret.

"I guess... not," he replied, wishing he hadn't been so adamant to talk, "...But what am I supposed to do then? It's not like I'll be getting back with Tifa..."

"Dancing lessons."

The statement hung in the air, and from the sheer strangeness of it, Cloud might have thought that someone else had joined the conversation. But Yuffie and Nanaki had created their own giggling world, and everyone else was too far away or dancing.

"Dancing lessons?" he replied, with an expression that emphasized his chocobo resemblance. Vincent smirked.

"You have two left feet. I would suggest dancing lessons," he stated, like it was the most obvious fact in the world.

And Cloud laughed. A very loud belly laugh that left him tingly when he finished. Vincent looked amused himself, venturing a small smile of his own.

"Hey, if you've got any materia, I'll give ya some lessons!" Yuffie immediately burst in. He didn't know what had drawn her in: the laughter, or the prospect of business. He didn't really care either.

_I must be really bad at dancing then..._

"Sure, Yuff. When do I start?" he replied, eliciting a shocked look from her. He'd been doing that to her lately, and it was almost beginning to be fun...

"Umm... now?"

So it appeared that he'd still be dancing with Yuffie. Not that he minded, really.

And as they made it back onto the floor, with her chattering like mad, Nanaki made his way over to Vincent. They both exchanged a conspiratorial look, and settled in, satisfied with the mayhem that would ensue.

"Ouch! Cloud! Pay attention! Left, _then_ right!"

"Ok, ok... sorry, I just got ahead of myself..."

"Well, watch it! That was my foot!"

* * *

AN: I don't believe in Yuffentines. So, that's one thing you can be sure of. And this was good to write, Cloud and Vincent not being slightly hostile with each other, unlike HC... good times. Thanks for all who're reading this... I'm very surprised that so many have read it! 


	8. Eighth Stanza: Marlene

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Eighth Stanza: Marlene Wallace

_The child's wonder  
At the old moon  
Comes back nightly.  
She points her finger  
To the far silent yellow thing  
Shining through the branches  
Filtering on the leaves a golden sand,  
Crying with her little tongue"See the moon"  
And in her bed fading to sleep  
With babblings of the moon on her little mouth._

- Carl Sandburg _Child's Moon_

Marlene had come to the conclusion that adults were inherently silly. Why didn't they just see thing for what they were? Didn't they see how pretty everything was?

Now when she said pretty, she didn't mean that frivolous sort of flashy thing that most people thought children adored. Sure, she loved pink things, flowers, Tifa's hair, Yuffie's smile, Cloud's eyes, her daddy's voice... but she had come to believe that pretty was something almost sacred.

Pretty was so many little things, but they all seemed to accumulate in the strangest places. Especially when people were dancing. She loved dancing so much; it made her feel so... free.

But even she didn't know the full weight of that word. For all her "cleverness" as Mr. Reeve liked to tell her, she had just as many questions. Her Daddy always made sure to answer them, too, to the best he could.

"Doesn't she look so pretty?" she pointed out to Wright, who was fidgeting beside her. She pointed her thin little finger towards Shera, who was patiently nursing Cid's ego. The boy nodded quickly, it was apparent that he wanted to be running around like a hooligan.

_Well, he is only six._

She reminded herself of important things like age in an orderly fashion. She liked numbers; her teachers told her she had a knack for them. But she didn't like them as much as dancing. She could never really sit still.

Her feet were getting antsy, just sitting there, watching her friend, Mr. Reeve, and Tifa finish their dance. Maybe she would be able to weasel another one out of him. He always listened to her when she talked, no matter how silly she might sound. She wondered if all adults were like her family... so full of pretty things.

Her daddy was certainly pretty, in his own way. She didn't like the way he was sitting by himself, with that serious look on his face, though. Her daddy was lonely, but she didn't know why. Didn't he have her? Weren't frequent visits to Aunt Tifa enough? He was confusing, that was certain. But she knew that he liked talking with Miss Elmyra. She was such a nice lady. Maybe she would talk with her, and have her keep Daddy company while she was dancing.

She made a quick face at Wright, it was so fun to tease him, and marched her way over to Elmyra. The woman had hidden herself where adults didn't notice her. Children were not adults, however, and Wright and Marlene had pestered her plenty.

"Well, well Marlene," Elmyra said before the girl had a chance to speak, "Coming to visit an old lady again?" Ms. Elmyra always called herself "old lady". Marlene never understood why; she didn't seem old at all. In fact, anyone she had ever heard as old didn't really seem that old to her. Especially that almost creepy, but nice, man that Tifa chattered about a lot. He didn't look old at all.

"Hello Ms. Elmyra!" she greeted her, clasping her hands behind her back, "Of course I'll come and visit you!" She couldn't help the exuberance; she really loved her large and scattered family; especially Ms. Elmyra and Aunt Tifa. She knew that every other child she had known had a mother; that perfect and lovely lady who cared for them. But Marlene was extra lucky; she had two. And bunches of aunts and uncles. So she didn't feel sad that her real mom went away... the same thing had happened to the flower lady. And she had _seen_ her once. So she couldn't really be gone.

"Why aren't you dancing?" she cut right to the chase, before Elmyra could get on another subject. The woman could be sneaky, and get her to talk for hours on end. She had told Marlene that the flower lady was a lot like her as a child, and that she loved talking too. But Marlene was clever and wouldn't be deterred from her original line of thinking.

Besides, her Daddy needed a friend, and Aunt Tifa was busy.

"Oh, my knees don't really hold up well," Elmyra said, idly brushing in the air with her hand, "I'm not one for dancing really." She grinned at the woman, fidgeting as she stood.

"Then... could you do something nice for me?" she whispered, looking around to see if anyone saw her, "Please?" Elmyra smiled with a warm affection at the girl, despite a lingering sadness behind her dark blue eyes. Marlene always knew that there was something lonely clinging to the older woman, like a fog that just wouldn't clear. She had learned that sadness was something that followed all the adults in equal measure; no matter how wide the smile was, it didn't seem that perfect sort of pretty that it should be.

Elmyra nodded then, and Marlene couldn't help but hop a little. Her happiness always involved movement, so it was a natural reaction.

"Could you talk with Daddy?" she continued to whisper, like she was preparing to wrap Christmas presents, "He looks so lonely over there." She pointed, and Elmyra's eyes shifted from the girl to the large man who hunched over the table with a mountainous intensity. A wry grin swept across her features, and Marlene couldn't help but giggle. Ms. Elmyra always made such funny faces in her mind.

"Of course, dear," Elmyra replied in her soft way, "Let's just hope he wants some company." There was no doubt in Marlene's mind that he wanted company; he just didn't know it yet.

_Daddy likes people as much as I do. Why would he want to be alone?_

And she followed Elmyra as she slowly walked over, skipping around her with a natural ease. She wasn't impatient with the woman, but she wanted to make sure that her Daddy stayed put. He could be so stubborn sometimes.

"Daddy!" she boisterously greeted him, "I brought someone to sit with you!" There were no pretenses to worry about here. She had a full honesty, and nothing else would work.

"_You either tell the truth or you say nothing at all."_

Tifa often had things like that to say. Big adult things that always stayed in her mind. Her teachers had their own words, but none of them seemed to stick. They weren't as warm, they weren't as honest. They always held something back.

He gave both of them a smile, though he seemed more hesitant with Elmyra. Marlene remembered that Elmyra had once yelled at her Daddy, because of the dangerous things. The things he didn't want to talk about, no matter how much she begged. Secrets.

"Hello again, Mr. Wallace," Elmyra said with a quiet tone. Marlene didn't know why she called her Daddy that, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Lil' midget pesterin ya agin?" he said with a humorous tone. He was teasing Marlene, and she knew the best way to deal with it. Give him a pout and a smile. And he smiled back before turning to Elmyra again.

"Ya can sit down," he said, gestering towards a chair next to him, "Lil' midget'll git all fidgety otherwise." He gave Elmyra a conspiratorial grin, and she suppressed a laugh with her hand as she sat down. Marlene rolled her eyes.

_I am NOT a midget._

She looked up the word once, and she was self-righteously angry at him for a day. She wasn't _that_ short. He was just too tall.

The music had changed again; somehow she had missed the song before. It was a slow song; almost mournful. Shera was being pulled onto the dance floor by Cid, quite a funny image, and Cloud had managed to stop injuring Yuffie for the moment. Maybe she would find Aunt Tifa, and get help finding another dance partner. She was good at things like that. Nobody ever said no to Aunt Tifa.

She scanned the area, flitting around like a pixie, her skirt bouncing as she moved. She preferred skirts, because they moved so well with her, so fluid. No other way to be, in her mind. Besides, Tifa had taken to wearing looser skirts herself, and she always thought Tifa was very lovely.

But she couldn't see her. It was like she had disappeared completely.

She furrowed her brows, and absently placed her hands on her hips; a mannerism that she didn't realize she had. She heard a female laugh behind her, and quickly glanced to see Elmyra laughing with her hand slightly over her mouth to muffle the sound. And her Daddy was smiling; one of those smiles that reminded her of those stories where everything ended up well and good in the end. Like a princess had been saved.

And was it ever pretty.

She never quite understood adults. They could be so serious sometimes, with their sad eyes and shadowed expressions. Didn't they see it? How bright and beautiful the world was now?

Her eyes wandered amongst them and she smiled broadly upon finding Tifa.

Didn't they see the smiles? How lovely the sky looked so blue and pure... like she'd never seen it before? So much different than the gray world that tickled in the back of her mind, before she could fully remember anything. How fresh everything was... how new?

And Tifa was blushing furiously, making Marlene giggle.

Didn't they see her? The flower lady was everywhere... and with a quick look behind her eyelids, she could her. She couldn't be a memory because everything was so... clear. Like the flowers that Tifa insisted on growing. Like the very pinkness of the dress she was wearing. Like being outside for the first time after a long winter.

_Maybe I'll ask him to dance too, considering Aunt Tifa managed to get him out there._

Marlene skipped her way closer to learn a few more things about dancing. For Tifa had a new partner, and a fairly good one at that.

And did they ever look pretty.

* * *

AN: HC stands for Haphazard Composition, another fic of mine. If you're ever bored, it's an ok read. This chapter was odd for me, since I was quite a tomboy at Marlene's age. I hope it doesn't sound weird. 


	9. Ninth Stanza: Vincent

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Ninth Stanza: Vincent Valentine

_My darling, the wind falls in like stones  
from the whitehearted water and when we touch  
we enter touch entirely. No one's alone.  
Men kill for this, or for as much._

_And what of the dead? They lie without shoes  
in the stone boats. They are more like stone  
than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse  
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone._

- Anne Sexton _The Truth the Dead Know_

After sleeping away for thirty years, there were only a few things that he hoped would stand the test of time. The most important of which in his mind was honesty. He never liked it when people weren't straight with him, even when he was in a profession built entirely on falsehood. It was something that made his eye twitch when he detected even the slightest flavor of counterfeit intent.

Which is perhaps why he appreciated Cid so much. That man was so honest with a person that it often hurt, similar to the sensation of his spear poking around inside his ribs. And ever since he'd been frequenting New Midgar, which was a stone's throw from Rocket Town as it were, he'd gotten a full dose of that honesty quite often.

Cid had made a special effort to make sure he had come. He called him so often that he wanted to pull the phone from the wall. He even sent Shera after him; a low blow in Vincent's humble opinion. That woman could charm a rattlesnake if she wanted to, and it wouldn't even know what hit it.

_Of course, she'd have to be good at charming snakes, considering her husband..._

Not that he thought ill of the pilot, of course. But it was certainly fun to tease him. Though now Cid would have a chance to tease and beguile him for _years_ to come. If it weren't for the fact that he doubted he could, he would probably be rather red at the moment. Concealing emotion had become quite easy for him, but it was certainly being tested.

Tifa seemed to have that effect on him lately.

It was the music that had done him in; that's what he would tell Cid and Cloud later. It was that somber sort of music he could get lost in, with its engrossing melodies and well defined chords. The sort of thing that had been old even when he was young, but enjoyed anyway. It reminded him of two things: solace and warmth. Not warmth like the sun either, but something more subtle. Like the blush he could feel even on Tifa's upper back.

The music had put him in a good mood, and when Yuffie came over with the "improved dancing Cloud", he listened in on their conversation. It was then that he heard Yuffie goading Tifa to dance with her "creation". But the nervous look on Tifa's face suggested that she wasn't into those fun and games.

And damn that part of him that felt chivalrous once in a while.

So, against his better judgment, he simply asked Tifa to dance with him. No harm could come from such a simple thing; other than Cid's inevitable taunts. But he'd learn to deal with those.

_I never thought a woman could turn so red._

Another bit of Cid's handiwork. Vincent had forgotten that Cid and Shera could dance the slower songs, and they had come by so that Cid could be charming as always. A less than hushed "Go Vinnie!" had turned Tifa redder than an apple in a matter of seconds. Perhaps she was wiser than he was, and saw what a fool he was making of himself.

But she didn't really seem embarrassed about him before. They were neighbors after all; have been for nearly three years now. The house that they sort of shared was split into two large apartments. He lived upstairs, even though he was out and about more than anything.

_Just pay attention to the music, this will all be over soon, hopefully._

The music slid into another movement and she didn't break away. In fact, she was becoming paler; in the healthy sense. And she smiled at him. He didn't quite know how to respond now that she wasn't wallowing in embarrassment. But her back still felt warm, and he hated to admit that he was getting used to the feeling.

"You're almost as good a dancer as Reeve," she said, as he awkwardly avoided missteping at the sound of her voice. He gave her a quick nod in response and she smiled wider, readjusting her grip to accommodate for the change in tempo. She was closer now, and moved his claw from the grasp on her hand to her shoulder, placing her free hand on his own shoulder.

Now he was very uncomfortable.

"Oh, do you mind?" she asked a little late, noticing how he stiffened at her approach. He shook his head though, despite the fact that he minded very much. So much that he would lose his steps if he didn't watch it. So, he focused on another thought that was nagging on his mind.

Where and when had he learned to dance?

He didn't have a clear memory; most of his memories before Lucrecia were a jumble of sounds and colors. This particular song left him with an overwhelming sense of the color indigo; like the sky just after a sunset, an evening ripe for a party. Certain things he had known innately upon waking up; namely how to fire a gun. And now, dancing was perhaps in that list. Had Lucrecia taught him? He couldn't help but harbor the image of that, the intimate and wonderful that dancing could be...

...but Lucrecia never danced with him. He only watched, from a distance really. Talked, for certain, but never danced with her. Never even touched her for that matter...

_Not now. Not now, Valentine._

He had to focus on the reality at hand. Especially since he'd gotten all high and mighty with Cloud, telling him to let go of the past and all. He'd forgotten that it might be good to take his own advice before launching into self-righteous bouts... of whatever it had been that he wanted to express.

She stepped on his toe, eliciting a quick and sudden gasp from her.

_So even the eternally graceful can miss a step once in a while. _

He didn't know why he found that particularly interesting. Or why the blush that was creeping back onto her cheeks made him want to grin like a fool. He didn't want to notice that she was grinning to ease the tension, a dimple appearing on her left cheek, something that he'd noticed nearly two years ago. Or that her eyes reminded him so much of someone he had long forgotten, someone who had meant something to him...

"Careful," he said, trying to dispel his line of thought, "Wouldn't want you to trip."

He wanted to kick himself immediately after saying that. He had enough problems with sounding like an old man; he didn't need to patronize too. Not that he cared about what people, which included Tifa, thought. He didn't need people, they only caused problems.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. He felt very strange under the scrutiny, and immediately back stepped. She followed his move, thankfully, thinking he was changing the style of dance.

And she let out a small laugh. "I didn't even notice it before," she said, humor lighting her face, "You've lost the whole 'shroud of darkness'." He couldn't help the small grin that tugged on his face. He remembered that's what she had begun to call his cape, nearly a year ago, one afternoon when she decided that he needed to go outside and get some fresh air...

"Did I see you grin, Mr. Valentine?" she teased, giving him that smirk that slightly wrinkled her nose, "Or is it just a dream... a trick?"

_A dream... tell me about those again._

But before he had a chance to answer her, he saw an instant where her eyes were opened wide in surprise, and she was shoved straight into him. And he heard a voice, rising out of his own momentary panic and the tangle of limbs he was falling into...

"Cloud! Geez, watch it!"

Yuffie. It figured that his attempt to keep her out of his hair would come back to bother him some other way. And Cloud too. The way the man was smirking at him was most disconcerting; like he had just discovered a secret. But what secrets did he have left?

Yet he was distracted by a face against his chest, and arms that were around him, and laughing...

...coming from the ninja. He must have looked quite the sight. He suddenly wished for the 'shroud of darkness'. For no matter how bloodless his skin seemed, there was blood flowing in his veins, and he had the ability to flush, no matter how insignificant.

"You're pink!" Yuffie said, still guffawing at him, with the addition of pointing. Even Cloud was smiling. He backed away, pulling himself away from Tifa, who had finally steadied herself, and stood, unable to move off the dance floor. In fact, he could not move at all.

"Oh! Sorry," Tifa said immediately, covering her mouth with her hand, and then tentatively reaching out with her other one, "I didn't knock into you too hard, did I?" She was touching his arm now, and he fought the urge to flinch. He was almost missing that brief contact...

He shook his head, and started to take another step back, but stopped when something tugged on his claw. He looked down, to see the fluff of pink that was Marlene. And she was smiling her sweetest at him.

"If you're done with Aunt Tifa, I'll dance with you," she said, her voice full of childish honey. And there was more laughter from the others, but he was regaining his calm. It was hard not to be at least a little friendly with Marlene.

He looked up and raised an eyebrow at Tifa, who smiled.

"I believe we were interrupted," she whispered over to them and gave Marlene a quick wink. He wasn't sure if he should be flattered, or frightened or what. But whatever look Tifa flashed immediately afterward at Yuffie was enough to rid them of _that_ annoying presence at least.

The sounds of the beginning chords on a piano, though not a real one, were heard. Another song from a time he didn't remember; though this one felt happier.

"Thank you," she murmured, closer again, though he wasn't certain if it was necessary. And he wasn't sure what exactly he was being thanked for.

But he didn't really care at the moment. He had to finish up this dance, he was honor bound. Besides, what could a harmless dance do? So what if he was getting caught up in it?

So much that neither of them heard the commotion from the other side of the floor.

"Yuffie. We need to talk. Now."

"Why'd... why'd ya come back?"

* * *

AN: A Valentine's Day special. I found it appropriate. Happy V-day! 


	10. Tenth Stanza: Reno

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Tenth Stanza: Patrick Rooney

_the boys i mean are not refined  
they cannot chat of that and this  
they do not give a fart for art  
they kill like you would take a piss_

_they speak whatever's on their mind  
they do whatever's in their pants  
the boys i mean are not refined  
they shake the mountains when they dance_

- e. e. cummings _the boys i mean are not refined_

Reno was living up to his reputation, like he often did, with swagger and a little luck. He couldn't wait any longer, sitting outside this little sphere that the AVALANCHE members had created. He didn't belong but he couldn't help but burst into it.

He had been that way his entire life... why would things suddenly change? A middle class kid pretending to be a slum punk, an angry teenager pretending to be a Turk, and a washed up has been pretending to be a decent human being... there were roles that needed to be filled. So he filled them. It only made sense that he should continue that philosophy.

And he didn't expect to disappoint now.

"Spunk... why?" he told her, firm and ignoring the glare that Strife was giving him. He was probably getting glares from other people too, but he frankly didn't give a shit. He had questions, and he was going to get answers to them.

He called her Spunk, because even when they'd traveled with her, she was just a kid, really. A stupid and careless kid. He never liked to use her real name; he didn't even go by _his _and he didn't expect she would want to go by hers. Yuff, Spunk; they were all the same. He'd call her Sister Mary Francis if it made her laugh. And she was always so easy to read. He could tell by the way she bit her lip that she understood what he was asking; and by the way she fidgeted with her foot; she didn't want to answer it.

"I thought you were done," Yuffie replied, a tone of anger hidden underneath the quiver, "You said you just wanted a dance." He wasn't smiling or smirking anymore. _They_ deserved a better explanation. She had caught him by surprise before; he didn't ever expect to see her again. Now that the shock had worn off, he wanted to justify it in his mind. For Rude. For Elena. For whatever fucked up idea of a family he had left.

But he chuckled darkly to spite. He had a reputation to live up to.

"Hell, _Yuffie_, didja think we'd never catch up with ya?" he began, regaining his usual arrogant demeanor, now that she knew he was serious, "That you could fuckin skip on yer merry way and fall back in with the good guys?" Strife's eerie eyes flashed with surprise for the moment. So she hadn't told them. He figured as much.

She had once told him that she wanted to get away from hero worship. That heroes had become dull in her eyes. That the shine of Strife and Lockhart and Wallace and the others had blinded her, and made her stupid. But now he knew what she was _really_ running from.

And dammit if they weren't just like each other.

"Listen, Reno, what are you doing here?" Strife stepped while Yuffie's mouth was open in protest, "I could overlook earlier, since you made it clear you were passing through—"

"I'm always passin through, Strife," Reno cut in, "Get used to it. But we've got somethin to deal with concerning _Yuffie_ here, and if you keep your yap shut, I'd appreciate it." Strife ground his teeth and looked at him angrily, but he remained silent. Maybe it was the look Yuffie momentarily gave him. Or maybe it was whatever dark presence Reno felt behind him that gave the other man the confidence to be quiet.

Yuffie marched up to him, and grabbed his arm hard.

"Ok. _Fine_. But let's just get away from the dance floor. People are trying to have a good time here," she hissed at him, and he couldn't help but smirk at her attempt to be intimidating. She had about as much presence as a rodent amongst when she tried that.

He gave a quick nod over to Rude, who had been his usual charming and silent self throughout the initial confrontation and let her drag him to somewhere at the edge of the party. It wasn't so much a location as a psychological response; he could feel it like an invisible wall as they passed through it. It felt cold.

"What the hell was that about!" she immediately said, making him feel more comfortable. An angry and confused Yuffie was far easier to deal with. Especially since he wasn't angry.

He wasn't angry.

"Yuff, why didn't ya just tell us?" he said with an unusually calm tone, "It's not like we'd kill ya for leavin." Maybe another time they would have, but that time had passed with the fires of a new era, with the last of his dry cleaning.

And with the look she threw him, he knew she wasn't angry either. He _saw_ her surprise. She had expected him to pass on through, just like Strife had said. Just like he'd been doing every goddamned day of his pathetic existence.

His mouth went dry.

"Because you can't be a princess _and_ a thief."

So she had grown up, away from the watchful eye of Rude, and the giggling sisterhood of Elena. He'd never contributed in the first place, other than to be a pain in her ass, like she expected.

"You love him, don't you?" he stated, more than questioning. She'd been clinging to him worse than he'd ever seen that faded Ancient do... but he didn't mean to notice such things. It was relations like those that had gotten him here in the first place; half a world away from the bottle he wanted to fall into, his best friend standing a little too far off for comfort.

"It's not that simple," she whispered, an odd and strained sound coming from her. She was staring at him now, the full weight of her dark eyes actually making him want to retreat a little. For that was where her presence truly lay; in that half woman and half warrior expression she had.

And he'd be damned if he didn't think it was at least a little beautiful.

"Yes it is," he nearly laughed, for some part of him found her infatuation with Strife ridiculous. He expected as much from Lockhart, certainly, but from the observations Rude had made, she couldn't even look at him straight. Some part of him gained a little respect for the woman. She saw how hopeless it was in the grand scheme of things.

It was oddly silent now. Somehow passing through this barrier even tuned out the music in his mind... there were no dancers, no musicians, no laughter.

"Fuck you," she replied, without the malice such a phrasing often entailed, "I just _knew_ you would do this." He blinked and nearly laughed at her. Knew? What did she know about _him_?

"Oh really," he replied, lightening his tone further, "And what makes ya think ya know so much?" She stared at the ground now, and he relaxed. Her spell was odd at times, a mingle of contempt and acceptance. She didn't have the same hatred for him as the others; she hadn't seen the plate drop. Fair enough. But there had always been that combination with her. She trusted Elena; they had an odd bond, like they knew that they weren't appreciated as much as others, and reveled in it. Rude didn't talk, and for someone like her, that meant the world, as he _listened_.

And him? What had he ever done for her?

"I watch, Reno," she stated plainly, looking up again, "I have eyes." He grinned at her choice of wording. He had done something, ever so slightly. For all his tauntings, and proddings, and questioning of her skills and the like, she had learned something.

She'd learned how to deal with callous bastards. A rare skill, indeed.

"And what do you see?" he said before even thinking over it. Because he really didn't want to know. He couldn't even look at himself.

"You're just the other side of the coin," she said, affixing that stare into the middle of his own expression, "And I could never really have either of you."

_Where did she get that idea? Are we really...?_

He never truly liked to argue with her. But he had a problem with false pretenses, despite his talent for them. He was talented in many things: killing, dancing, drinking, trash-talking. But talent had never settled well in his stomach.

So when he leaned over and grabbed her, pulling her into hasty kiss, he'd never felt less talented in his life. It was exhilarating.

When he broke away, she was staring open mouthed, her brows furrowed. Like she was torn between killing him, or correcting his technique. She didn't speak for a while, and he figured that the former would be true.

"W-w... h-h..." she began, incoherent syllables passing from her mouth like smoke, "You... you..." And she was frowning at him. He felt devious and wonderful. He'd never seen her incapable of running her mouth, and it was perhaps the most amusing thing he'd ever seen.

"Ya should look harder," he replied, grinning evilly, "Yer observation skills are lackin." She responded by laughing at him. Now it was his turn to be confused.

"Ya arrogant self serving son of a bitch!" she said, once she had caught her breath, "Ya think I'd just drop everything and follow ya wherever the wind blew ya this time?" He suddenly didn't feel so confident. Why did she always put him so on edge?

She was laughing again; apparently his expression was humorous. He felt like kissing her again, and maybe she would shut up. He'd gotten a taste of her, and found she had a striking similarity to rum. He wanted more.

But his mouth became occupied with another task.

"Where do ya live?" he replied, and she snapped her mouth shut. Maybe he had underestimated the power of spontaneity.

"What?"

"I said, where do ya live?"

Her expression fazed between confusion and deadly seriousness. He had her now, that was for certain. He knew that thoughtful expression. For once, she might just go for it.

"Are you serious?" she whispered, once again staring. He'd always thought that she looked beautiful like that. Especially now while she was in that green dress...

"I'll be waitin just outside a here," he replied, pointing further towards the Outside. Farther outside the barrier. He never waited for anything; Rude always pointed it out. But he knew the instant he saw her again that something was missing. Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe it _was_ a passing fancy, like the dress she was wearing. He had all the time in the world to find out. It wasn't like either of them had found a purpose.

And he gave a quick lookout for Rude, who was shaking Lockhart's hand. No danger there. Strife was edgy, but not that edgy. And Valentine, who oddly enough was within range of the exchange, didn't look like he'd be changing into whatever the hell creatures where inside him. And he smiled at Rude, who hadn't noticed him. He'd come later. He always came. So he started to walk off, back where he came from. He didn't belong here.

"Patrick Rooney!"

_Where the hell did she find out my name! _

Realization dawned on him, and he shot a glare towards Rude. Too bad the man didn't notice. He'd have a word with him later, when no woman and children were present.

"Yes, _Yuffie_?"

"I'd like a dance. You got yours," she said, hands stubbornly on her hips, "it's my turn." He flicked his eyes over and noticed that there were some people he'd never seen while fighting. He could be too focused sometimes, to notice such things. And they were all outsiders, like he was.

_Strange strange world._

He nodded, and when she grabbed his hand he could hear it. That which he had tuned out for the duration of his interrogation.

Music.

* * *

AN: I have a predilection for Cloud/Yuffie/Reno triangles. Don't know why. But for once, I let Reno win. Here ya go, T. Pirate, and Sabe. 


	11. Eleventh Stanza: Elmyra

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Eleventh Stanza: Elmyra Gainsborough

_I taught myself to name my name,  
To bark back, loosen love and crying;  
To ease my woman so she came,  
To ease an old man who was dying.  
I have not learned how often I  
Can win, can love, but choose to die._

W. D. Snodgrass _April Inventory_

Elmyra had learned enough to know that once you reach a certain point, you can never go back. Like a train, like a child's wooden duck on a string; it mattered not in the metaphor. When Marlene had tugged her towards that man the little angel called 'Daddy' she couldn't refuse. It was the path set before her.

She guessed that Marlene had thought they would get along: all the adults she loved did. They were all a big family in her eyes; the child had such optimism. Reminded her so much of her little Aeris... so much that it hurt to look at her sometimes.

"Startin ta feel like we in some damn drama," he chuckled, flicking his eyes over to a shock of red and Yuffie's shrill voice. Elmyra hadn't noticed them before, but she certainly didn't care for either of them much. But he always seemed to notice; he noticed so many things, she hadn't seen. Maybe it was good to sit with him.

She had hated this man once, who sat across from her with a familiar unease. She had hated how much danger his appearance had brought to her doorstep, and such responsibility he had left. Sure there was that truly dangerous one; disguised by golden hair and infinitely blue eyes. But it was Barret she had placed the sole blame on: he should have known better. He had a child.

"They're young, they'll get over it," she whispered, shaking her head. He looked at her strangely for a minute, but she just smiled that smile she had learned from her daughter. The one that tells the world you're whole even if you're rolling on the ground without limbs. Not a false smile; but not an honest one.

They were connected; Marlene made sure of that. Elmyra had unwittingly become a half-mother to someone else's child again. Though, she couldn't see her as often anymore. Her father was busy with Corel; not in a government position really. The man was never really cut out for leadership. He was a figure, and he provided just enough elbow grease to keep things running along. His mere presence was enough. But with presence, you have to be there.

"Ya can't always say tha'" he replied, staring directly at her. The effect was unnerving. He could pick up her frail old bones and throw her across the dance floor. He could also tie delicate pink ribbons in his daughter's hair.

"And why not? I am old. I accept that," she said, not really knowing if she was talking to him or not, "You're no spry young thing yourself." He chuckled at that, shaking his head again. His grin suggested that they had a similar flavor; bitter old fools. It wasn't comforting. But it didn't make her want to go and hide.

Gods, she didn't belong here. Any reason she had to be here sank to the bottom of a pool she'd never see.

"Tha' I'm not," he said, with a hint of humor in his dark brown eyes, "Doesn't mean I gotta give up on life." She stared, not sure how to respond to his seemingly thoughtless reply.

_How dare he take something like that so lightly._

The side of his mouth twitched at her silent reply. She tried to keep from scowling at his amusement. She didn't like to be made fun of. Especially in her currently embittered state.

"I'm right ain't I?" he said, studying the lines on her face, "Ya jus gone and gave up, didn't ya?" She set her jaw stiffly. She didn't need him to evaluate her life. She didn't need anyone for that.

"_Mom, why aren't you happy?" her green eyes always pierced through her, a perpetual reminder that she never bore her._

"_Oh, I'm happy dear," she replied, smiling, "I've got you haven't I?" The girl grinned madly at her, and then turned serious again._

"_But you miss him, don't you?"_

Always so precocious. Her little Aeris. Why did it always blind side her like this... the memories...

She didn't feel it when it trickled down her cheek. She was always so numb now. Tears, smiles, frowns... they all felt the same. Hollow.

"I didn't mean it like tha'..." Barret said quietly. She shook her head.

"It's not you," she replied, a hoarse whisper of a sound, "I was just... remembering." He nodded, the understanding flashing between them briefly. Haunting. She'd summed up her remaining experience with humanity as that. For what could she be in this wandering world?

A wife without a husband. A mother without a daughter.

It was so easy to define herself. Terribly easy. She would have laughed at the absurdity of it. Especially in the silence left after a song had finished. She had recognized the music for the sorrowful and slow melody that it was, and the hollow void left after it finished was nearly crushing.

"Elmyra," he whispered, pulling her back into the current situation, "Look aroun' ya." She narrowed her gray eyes at him. What exactly was he implying. Still, she humored him.

Marlene was pestering Cid, scrunching her little nose at him. He didn't seem as miffed as he acted, and Elmyra couldn't help but smile at the scene. Especially the laugh that Shera was stifling at his expression. With the music restarted, that red-haired troublemaker was now dancing, surprisingly elegant, with the young loud one...Yuffie. The beast creature was grinning at her, his tail flicking absently behind him. Cloud was standing with his arms crossed, just outside the center of tension.

It was all around that girl, Tifa. Marlene's other mother.

The nightmarish man, whom she had seen perhaps once or twice before, was standing just behind her. She thought she could see worry in his face, but it was probably a trick of the light. That man had no expression; of that she was certain. A bald man was shaking the girl's hand, and she smiled at him pleasantly. She had a ghosting of recognition seeing his sunglasses, but then again, her memory often failed her. And Tifa herself...

...looked uncomfortable underneath that smile.

_Too many eyes, making you the focus, huh? Dissecting your every move? _

She was reminded of her youth when she saw Tifa Lockhart. She had been quite a pretty young thing once; the center of attention of every young man in that small town she had grown up in. And she had fallen for a soldier...followed him into Midgar, like so many young fools...

She distracted herself by inspecting her table companion. Much to her surprise, his gaze was also affixed on Tifa.

_That explains... a lot._

"And what am I looking at, Mr. Wallace?" she said, her voice resuming its normally soft tone. She only called him that when she wanted to catch his attention. He preferred to be on a first name basis with everyone; and disliked it when his surname came into conversation. He wanted to be friend; that was for certain.

And to others, perhaps something more.

"Life, Ms. Gainsborough, life," he replied, tearing his gaze away from Tifa, "Don' no one tell ya otherwise. It's tha people tha make it happen." She saw the tinge of regret that emanated from him, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the need to be strong. Stronger, at least.

"Ah, but you've given up too," she replied, arching her eyebrow, "You chose to be alone." He frowned.

"Can't hide anythin from ya, can I?" he answered tenatively. Tifa had always joked with her, saying that Barret was just a softie. But the girl had failed to realize the cost of such a disposition. And every smile, every flirtation, and every dance she made with another man added to his debt.

A man without a wife. A father holding onto his daughter for dear life.

"They're really family to you, aren't they?" she added unconsciously, twirling a lock of her graying hair. He stared off into his thoughts, considering her words.

"Only as much as they let me," he murmured, shaking his head, "Can't hold onto to 'em much longer. They gots families of they own. All I kin do is watch Marlene, raise her up right, and hope they all fine." She smiled cynically. They sounded so alike when the others weren't around. She didn't have to be the outsider, or the reminder to the lost one of his unending guilt. He didn't have to be "good ole Barret" and humor them with their happy lives.

For the happiness of the both of them rested solely on a little girl, who was flitting around obliviously in her pink dress.

And Elmyra hoped that she would forgive them someday. For when she became older, she would shrug off their stifling love with the first passing boy. And they would only hold onto her tighter, wishing that children didn't have to grow old, didn't have to leave them behind.

At least this time, she wouldn't necessarily outlive her.

With this realization, Elmyra finally broke down. She didn't care how childish she looked; sobbing like the world was ending. But to her, it had ended. With a solemn "I'm sorry" as he handed her a familiar pink ribbon. She had survived the apocalypse only to find out that... that...

A large hand tentatively patted hers.

She looked up, her vision blurred by the tears. He was standing now; a tower of strength like all the others saw him. And he was crumbling, little by little. She felt like her body would just fly away with the next wind, she was so delicate and frail. She never realized what 48 years of living could really mean. And for an instant, she envied her, with that noble death.

But she was standing now too, not realizing that she had made that automatic response.

"Walk wit me," he said quietly, holding out the crook of his arm to her. And she took it; staying the trembling of her hands.

Maybe she would have a friend, when Marlene had grown up, when the others had buried their guilt. She certainly hoped so. They both needed that little girl; there was no hiding it.

Maybe they needed each other too.

* * *

AN: Finally an update. Been quite busy lately, plus I've a cold to boot. So I blame any weirdnesses on the cold medicine. And HypernatedRikku: calm down. Remember what I said about being more bold? Getting out of your comfort zone? That applies to fanfiction too. I suggest reading some good reffies; you'd be surprised at how well some authors can pull them off coughTijuana PiratecoughSabriel41cough. And no, I'm not entirely converting. I'll write you a nice one-shot sometime, k? Love to all who've been reviewing...I'm amazed at how many are following this. Btw, you Vintifa fans...I drew something. It's not much, but considering the scarcity of vintifa fanart out there, I'd figured I'd share it with ya: http: www . deviantart . com / deviation / 15184341 / (just remove the spaces)  



	12. Twelfth Stanza: Cid

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Twelfth Stanza: Cid Highwind

_Our noses rub,  
each of us pats a stringy lock of hair-  
they tell me nothing's gone.  
Though I am forty-one,  
not forty now, the time I put away  
was child's play._

**- **Robert Lowell _Home After Three Months Away_

Blue skies. The only thing that Cid Highwind noticed about the Springtime. Wide open blue skies that begged for him to join them. The little whisps of clouds that betrayed which way the wind was blowing...

...But that was all contemplative poetic shit, really. All the clouds really did was remind him that he needed another smoke.

He liked music, that was certain. But he absolutely hated poetry. Something that people who couldn't do a decent day's work in their lives created to lord over the simple people. It was all snobbery and high class flattery.

"Uncle Cid!" Marlene shouted again, standing on her tiptoes, "Why do you always stare at the sky like that?" That child had a question for everything. It was all "why this?" "what are you doing that?"... it would have been annoying if she wasn't so damned genuine about it. She really _did_ want to know.

"'Cause that's where I belong 'lil lady," he replied, for once avoiding the grumbling, "Imma ole bird." She looked at him like he was joking and giggled.

"A _bird_!" she replied incredulously, "Like a _chocobo!_" He frowned at that. She was getting too smart for her own good, she was. Comparing him to those stupid ill-tempered excuses for poultry...

"No, the weird old flying kind," Shera answered before he could open his mouth. He would've scowlded at her too, if it weren't for the smile on her face.

_Damn... she doesn't really know how beautiful she is, does she?_

So it was mushy and careless of him. It was his wife after all; he had the right now to stare at her and think whatever naughty or lovey dovey thoughts that came to mind. Because she had decided to put up with him, even beyond guilt. The guilt had given her a place...

...swallowing his own pride had given her a home.

Soon enough, Marlene was flitting off. Like a butterfly. He couldn't help but equate things with flying creatures; it takes one to know one. Though, there were a few exceptions.

Like Valentine. Shera seemed to understand him better; practically doted on him. Funny sight too. But something in the way he gave her that odd creepy smirk of his at least showed he appreciated it. He had better too; or old Highwind would have words with him.

"Dear, what's going on in that half-addled brain of yours?" Shera said, the humor creasing in the lines of her face. She was so much younger than him, but had seemed to age at about the same rate. At least, in the ways he noticed.

"Nuthin'" he replied and when she raised an eyebrow, "Well... just thinkin' 'bout Vince. The weirdo. Where is he anways?" Shera pointed him in the right direction; she always seemed to have better tabs on what was happening around them. He lead; she backed him up. The perfect pilot and engineering team.

Not that he'd ever tell her that. If she was half as clever as he knew she was; she'd have figured it out for herself.

He saw that _Turk_ first. The quiet one. Shaking Cloud's hand, for some odd reason. And Cloud didn't seem to know the reason either, judging by his puzzled expression. But Cid didn't really care what was going on there. No harm being done, right?

And judging by the proximity to which Vincent was standing, if there was any harm, it would be taken care of quickly. And with Tifa around, that sentiment was doubled.

_Eh, right... unless good ole Vinnie's distracted..._

He chuckled to himself. So what if Shera and he had been working on those two for a while? It wasn't "out of character" for him to blow things slightly out of proportion and tease... they didn't suspect a thing. Frankly, they both needed a little distraction. Especially when Tifa had called him up that night, asking for a place to stay...

...and a week later, the call from Vincent. Odd thing, how it works out like that.

Shera, the sassy money hoarder she was, owned, and still owns the house those two live in. In fact, she rents out several houses turned apartments. He'd wondered how she'd always come up with the parts he needed all those years... sneaky woman.

"You still worried about him?" Shera asked, the edge of her voice always tipped upwards like a laugh. She really seemed happy now. Maybe he should've done this years ago. But then, the sex probably wouldn't be as good.

He had to keep his prioreties straight.

"Heh, he's a piece o' work, that one," he replied, grinning, "But I think we got the ball rollin'." They couldn't help the evil grins... when they were in on something, they naturally assumed the roles of minor villains. In the grand scheme of things, they were minor characters... people like Cloud and Tifa and Vincent and maybe even Reeve deserved the leading roles. They just naturally fit into patterns of focus.

Being minor characters, though, meant a few sneaky liberties. Like seriously messing with the main characters' lives.

"I think he would shoot you if he knew you set him up like that," she murmured, eyes glittering and catlike. He chuckled. She was wise and knowing for such a knobby-kneed scrawny and positively lovely woman.

But he knew that somewhere it that nightmare infested brain of his, Vincent already figured out that he was up to something. The fact that he hadn't come into his house in the middle of the night with a gun and a 100 kilowatt lamp and his Turk interrogation handbook was at least some hope.

The Turk walked by, with Reeve chattering some mangled nonsense. Maybe amends had been made. Maybe Reeve was doing some damage control. Cid really didn't give a shit. Nothing was blowing up.

"Reno! That's disgusting!"

Well, maybe not yet.

"I didn't mean it like that, Spunk! Well...unless..."

A slap resounded through the air. Two seconds later, Cid and Shera had to hold their sides to keep them from splitting from the force of their laughter.

"50 gil!" Cid gasped out, "One week!" Shera's eyes were tearing, but she shook her head.

"50 gil...two weeks!" she replied, hiccuping.

So what if they were betting on those two? The ninja was about as reliable as a jet engine strapped to lawn chair. Not that he'd ever tried anything like that... And the redhead? Did anyone _not_ see the inevitable trouble just oozing from him?

Besides, he needed to get back some of the gil he'd lost to Tifa in a drinking contest a week ago. Better than telling his wife where the money went anyway.

And seeing her so serene right now... he didn't feel like making her angry. He'd have more fun with that later, for certain. For now, he'd have to keep her distracted. Luckily, the oppurtunity presented itself.

"Barret! Hey, c'mon over 'ere!" he shouted at the man as he made his loop around the outside of the party. The big man came over, with a friendly grin. As he came closer, he noticed an extra accessory hanging from his left arm.

_Is that lady Aeris's mom?_

He'd only seen her on a couple of occasions, never having been formally introduced. Not that he cared for formal introductions... but he liked to know at least a _little _about the people he ran into here and there. Common sense, or something like it.

So, he jumped up shook her hand, like any natural clod would do.

"Cid Highwind, ma'am," he said, and gave a quick nod over to Shera, "Mrs. Highwind." Elmyra smiled at the both of them.

"That's _Shera_ Highwind," his forever contrary wife spoke up, elicting a short giggle from the older woman. He knew what he was doing. Half expected her to use the hyphenated form of her name. Maybe he had a greater hold on her than he thought...

"Though I don't quite know why I gave up my name for this burned out old man."

...or not.

Barret and Elmyra slid right into the banter. Sure, the lady was a bit quiet, but she seemed a little comfortable around Shera at least. Especially when Wright came running up and sat on his mother's lap.

It was weird, seeing his family like that. Shera, and Wright... and some of the older set from perhaps the single most delirious experience from his life, sitting around and bullshitting like his younger days. It was always for this type to reminisce. Kinda like war veterans, but somehow both more noble and more haunting than that.

The sky. He was staring at it again. Damn, he had everything now, didn't he?

If only he could wrap it all up in paper and smoke it. Maybe then he'd be willing to let himself slide back into the Lifestream. But that was poetic bullshit.

He still had a daughter to bring into the world.

* * *

AN: Let this be said. I adore Cid! Hopefully my interpretation of him is enjoyable! Thanks for the love! 


	13. Thirteenth Stanza: Tifa

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Thirteenth Stanza: Tifa Lockhart

_The peanut-crunching crowd  
Shoves in to see_

_Them unwrap me hand and foot  
The big strip tease.  
Gentlemen, ladies_

_These are my hands  
My knees.  
I may be skin and bone,_

_Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman._

Sylvia Plath _Lady Lazarus_

"_Nice to finally meet you."_

That was he had said to Tifa, with a quick and unexpected handshake. The man with the sunglasses. Rude. She'd only known his name because at one time she had entertained thoughts of revenge. For if she was a woman who could never say the right thing; she was also a woman of long standing and burning anger.

The very reason she fought with fists instead of something more delicate. It was more personal that way.

She was surprised at how quickly that resolve had fizzled out, with as simple a gesture as a handshake. Maybe the fires of her belly weren't nearly as eternal as she had once thought. Maybe she was fading.

Oh, she hated _that_ thought. She was 26 years old. What was that stigma attached to aging _really_ about?

"Tifa."

She hadn't realized she'd been standing, mouth probably agape for some time now. And it was Vincent's voice too; only he would use simply her name to get her attention. She smiled.

_Paying attention, Lockhart?_

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she replied, turning to face him, "You don't have to worry. He didn't say anything _rude_." She deliberately made a pun; she giggled at herself for a second. She was silly for some reason... didn't quite know why.

And she could've sworn she'd seen him smile a little. But her eyes had been playing tricks on her all day in regards to him; silly man. He was out of the cloak and out of the awkward little hiding spot that they lived in.

Oh yes, they were hiding. Cloud didn't know where she lived. And nobody except Cid and Shera knew that Vincent lived in the apartment above her. Perhaps that's why they had been throwing subtle jokes back and forth the entire time between each other. Hell, Barret didn't even know who her neighbor was... just that Vincent was around sometimes.

"Do you still require my services?" he asked, and she blinked in answer. Services... what services...?

Oh, dancing. Right. She really needed to get out of the girly _dress_ all pale lavender and flowing, and well, pretty... she didn't feel right in it and it was affecting her judgment. It was all Shera's fault anyway, altering it for her, saying things about how she was still so young and needed to get out and look feminine...

He cleared his throat. She had been babbling in her head again.

"Well, I wouldn't want to get in the way of any of your other conquests," she replied, recovering her wits. He arched an eyebrow and she couldn't help but giggle. He found her ridiculous and she knew it.

But there was a tap on her shoulder, and she had to turn around before she could muse any further.

Assaulted by blue, first and foremost, and the giggle stopped in her throat. Cloud. There went her ideas with hiding.

"What exactly did he say to you?" he said, mouth set in a straight line. She had to admit, the protectiveness did surprise her. Though the last words they had spoken hadn't been the angry ones, it was the angry ones that left impressions in her mind about him. She could forgive him for his guilt; she could forgive him for calling her a liar...

...but she couldn't forgive him for assuming that only _he_ felt the pain at losing _her_. That _he_ was the only one who appreciated _her_.

"Just that he was happy to meet me," she replied, point-blank and devoid of any hesitance. It surprised her how easy it was to talk to him, now that she wasn't trying to get him to love her. Had she really been hiding from him that long to realize that?

Even more surprising was his reaction. A grin.

"Funny... told me the same thing," his intense gaze left her and scanned across the people. Apparently he found what he was looking for because he turned around, gave her a quick wave and disappeared.

_That was... weird._

She shook her head. There were forces at work that were beyond her control, and comprehension. He was always such a brief force. The well; then separation. Finding him in Midgar, traveling, defeating evil; then Costa del Sol. When they had lived together in Costa del Sol... they were friends. Simply that. Not a relationship of any kind, as he so pointedly made clear to her...

She shook her head. There had been a reason she had hid. It had taken a separation from him for her to learn that she needed him. It would, and maybe even had, taken another one to learn that she really only need herself.

Herself. Alone. It made her shiver in the warm air.

That's when she felt another hand on her shoulder. Not poking, nor prodding, nor begging her attention. Barely even a feather touch, really.

"Tiff, ya gonna be awright?" Cid's quieter voice came from behind her. She wanted to laugh.

_No, he wouldn't. Don't go deluding yourself again._

"Won't your wife get jealous from all the attention you're paying me?" she replied. She knew how to deal with him. Shera had taught her well. But she was glad for his effort. Cid seemed to draw broken souls to him; some "birds of a feather" phrase often came to mind. Maybe that's why Vincent never ventured into complete oblivion. He felt the draw too.

"Oh, she's gone an' found 'erself someone to dance with," he responded gruffly, crossing his arms, "Some _young_ stud, the tart." Tifa raised her eyebrows. She hadn't seen anyone that Cid would trust with Shera at this party...unless...

She faced the dance floor, and saw Shera beaming like she'd just caught the best looking guy at her debutante ball. Every bit of that big grin on her face was for the sole embarrassment of the most uptight man Tifa had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

But Vincent was having his own fun too. She detected just the barest hints of vengeance as he drew her an inch closer and... winked at Cid.

Winked? Did Vincent even know how to do that?

Suffice to say, if his aim was to make Cid appear like he was going to blow a fuse... then he'd achieved that. And more.

Cid snaked an arm around her waist before she even had a chance to laugh at his red faced fury, and was unceremoniously dragged onto the dance floor. He was a bad dancer, she'd known from observing him and Shera, but to experience it firsthand was certainly... an _experience_. No wonder Shera'd wanted to trade him in for Vincent.

When they got close enough, Cid leaned over, a giant fake smile plastered on his face. Vincent pretended not to notice him, while Shera tried to do the same, with spurts of giggles proving her fortitude in the face of such... silliness.

"Wanna trade?" Cid asked, pushing Tifa towards him. Vincent gave a glance to Shera, who nodded.

"Deal," he said, and skillfully twirled Shera back to the old pilot, who in turn nudged Tifa forcefully into Vincent's stiff frame. Second time that day she'd nearly been thrown at him, and it was getting to be rather annoying. She knew how much Vincent just didn't like _touching_. He was probably about to have a heart attack or something.

"Sorry," she said, and made to pull away, but he carefully arranged her arms for dancing. Now she was confused. He raised an eyebrow.

"It was a trade," he said, as if defending himself from her glaring confusion. She knew she was red, and didn't really care at the moment. She had never been more exposed or passed around today than any other usual day. She was used to a life of ogling and being put on display...

_Get over it, Tifa._

She liked to think her conscience was Aeris, mentally thwaping her on the head for good measure. It would have been better if the girl was actually there... because did she ever have questions for her. It had been a difficult February this year... not that every year it was any different.

But here, under the big blue sky... she _felt_ her. Gods... did it always hurt like this?

"I want to go _home_," she whispered, her throat dry. She was mechanically moving with the music she didn't hear. She slumped forward resting her forehead on his upper arm. Contact be damned... she was feeling weak.

"You are not finished," he replied simply, nudging her head back to upright, "...And I am a poor shroud to hide behind." Did he feel responsible for her? She'd told Shera that he could live upstairs because she had been so damned alone and she wanted to _help_ someone, he seemed so desperate...

...but it appeared he was made of firmer stuff than she.

She looked around. Cid and Shera, conspicuously avoiding her eye contact. It was _their_ day. Brilliant bright blue sky. Barret, smiling while telling a story; he loved stories. Elmyra; listening, looking and... living. Looking so elegant as she always did, no wonder Aeris had turned out so well. Reeve, chattering excitedly to Rude, who appeared to be contributing to the conversation once in a while.

Yuffie, scolding a fidgeting Reno. Nanaki scolding a fidgeting Yuffie. A small version of Cid flitting amongst all of it, the untamed hooligan he was. And Cloud, where was he...?

The next step of the dance revealed him, hiding at his own table. But he'd been found. The little tuft of pink, Tifa's very own promise to the world... Marlene. She was holding out her little hand, begging him to dance. All those little habits, that boldness, that utter determination... many attributed that to Tifa's influence.

But Tifa knew the _real_ influence.

"You can't hide behind me either," she replied, finally looking at her partner. Another trick of the light could've fooled her into thinking he smiled. What a brilliant sunlight it was, playing with her mind. He looked so much younger in it, for no matter what age his body was, he betrayed his real age in his face. Tired. Worn.

"A man that would hide behind you..." he began but changed his mind with the tap of a falsified piano note, "...Thank you." She didn't probe him; he didn't often thank her for anything. She bullied him a lot, and he probably didn't like her intrusions or anyone's really, into his life. But her voice wanted an exchange.

"People are going to talk, you know," she said, even though she really didn't give a damn. And she knew he didn't either, but it was something to say. Sometimes she just needed something to say...

"I am sure the _Captain_," she couldn't help but giggle at the intonation of his favorite prod at the man, "will have something to say. I could shoot him if you would like." And she was full out laughing; his humor was often so morbid...

...but so wonderfully rare and delightful that she was almost giddy with it.

"Only if I get to watch..." They tilted into another movement, oblivious that the first had ended. There would be talk later; people so scrutinized her moves. A woman was expected to be so much... mother, virgin, daughter, friend, lover, support...

For now she would be Tifa. He would be Vincent. And everyone else would just have to watch her dance with him.

_Thank you, Aeris. I needed that._

_

* * *

_

AN: Ok, they're dancing again. Couldn't help it. My Tifa always ends up slightly neurotic...hmm. She's fun though. My muse. Oh, and this isn't the last 'stanza'. The last one will be indicated as such. I've got a sort of twist for the ending, so I hope you're prepared. Anyone who's ever read anything by me... I'm experimental. Much love! Thanks for following along... I would think would be boring (as there is really no plot) but I'm glad to be proven wrong! Thank you._  
_


	14. Final Stanza: The Observer

**. . . Chorophobia . . .**

Last Stanza: The Observer

_**Ma poi ch'i' fui al piè d'un colle giunto,  
là dove terminava quella valle  
che m'avea di paura il cor compunto,**_

_**guardai in alto, e vidi le sue spalle  
vestite già de' raggi del pianeta  
che mena dritto altrui per ogne calle.**_

_But when I'd reached the bottom of a hill-  
it rose along the boundary of the valley  
that had harassed my heart with so much fear-_

_I looked on high and saw its shoulders clothed  
already by the rays of that same planet  
which serves to lead men straight along all roads._

Dante Alighieri _Inferno_

In a place without time, it's often hard to realize where you are. Things get jumbled, and I can't see everything clearly. But I think I've been here long enough to do one thing; control my focus. Like a tape, I've played this day over and over again... I've never really known why.

When you're dead, your perspective changes.

That's the first thing you become aware of. This can't be life. You can't feel. You can only see. You can't interfere. You can only watch.

I stop and focus. I have my favorite moments. Certain smiles, certain touches of the hand. I guess that the happiness is what drew me first. When I could still feel the breath of life on my phantom lips.

But even that began to fade. I sought out the tears. The anger. The loneliness. I guess I was bitter then, maybe envious. And now, whatever now might be, I've run the entire spectrum. I might be emotionless, if it weren't for them. My reminders.

This corner of the room (if there ever was a room, so many things are deceitful), I keep Barret. His tapes play intertwined with the others, it was never very often that he was alone. His past is so much more vivid to behold before your eyes, no matter my once innocent heart nearly broke when he simple _told_ us...

Ah. The dancing. My compulsive ghosting of a mind likes to keep tapes of like moments. Neat and tidy, like rows of vegetables. This current trace of feeling leaves me in the mood for their dancing. Some are so few; like Barret.

The swing with Tifa; a goodbye to sentiment. My favorite...brings us with ties of family, maybe.

"_It's Christmas Daddy!" Marlene shouts, even on the cusp of adulthood, she cannot contain her glee. He smiles at her, enjoying the brief moment to hug her. She breaks free showing off her perfect pirouette; even in sneakers her feet are well trained._

_She's only back for the holidays. A cautious old pale hand pats his elbow..._

Further. It's almost my favorite part.

_Lights dimmed and the tunes from an old stereo play light lullabies. Marlene's presence had left for the night; there were other parties to attend to. _

_But those who remain, though looking a little older for it, do not seem to mind. Laughter, soft and gentle, as he twirls her for the second time._

"_I'm too old to swing like I used to!" Elmyra replied, nearly breathless. He grinned._

"_And Imma silly ole fo'!" he said, spinning her back in place._

Too bad no wedding... I wanted to see them all together. But the future fluctuates sometimes, leaving fuzzy grains in the images. Sometimes they don't come back; I've realized.

Marlene _is_ a dancer. I can see all the steps from tiny wisp of a girl, lanky girl woman, and then the graceful lady she became. Part of the rules of this place does not allow me to peer too far into the future beyond those that I know... most of Marlene's life is hidden from me. But her debut with the New Midgar Ballet is a tape I could watch over and over again.

Mother... I only want the best for you. I wish you didn't cry for me. I wish you had gotten married again. I was never enough to fill your strained heart, was I?

I'm too cowardly to watch any of their deaths. I know that some of them happened, certainly, and that they are at rest. Mother is finally had some peace, and I think Barret has joined her. But the younger ones are still around.

Like Yuffie. I like to look at her corner. She's so vibrant. Lovely dancer to boot.

She dances quite often, no matter what age I see her at. And she grew up, too. It would have been interesting to experience; the woman that Yuffie became.

Two wedding dances for her. The first was hasty and private; the second timid and with a few friends. A full life, for certain. I can't help but envy her that. But what is there but envy for the dead?

Her first husband died, I believe. I can feel the weight of his presence here.

"_So, Spunk, do ya regret this?" Reno whispered in Yuffie's ear while the quiet music played into the night._

"_Naw. I just wish we coulda invited a few people," she replied, grinning. He kissed her forehead._

"_I shoulda learned by now the results of impulse decisions..." he said, laughing. She glared at him, but soon softened her expression._

Yes, he is gone. That's how she found her second husband. At the funeral. Another dance... but I don't want to think about that one.

Maybe I should look at Cid's corner. Corner? I wonder what shape this room is...

He's another one who has passed on. The first, I believe. I told him that those cigarettes would kill him; no surprise they did. Even if he quit them for periods of time... he was always sneaking them despite. And Shera too. I adore their wedding; it was the last time everyone was together in the same place. A place that started and ended so many things.

"_Cid? What are you doing?" Shera asked, her face a mess of confusion, as she peeked her head in the room. He smiled at her._

"_C'mere girly. I gotta surprise fer ya," he replied, gesturing for her to come inside. She raised her eyebrows and complied. He moved aside to reveal what he'd been working on._

"_What **is** it?" she asked, inspecting it. He frowned._

"_A radio, woman." Then she smiled. He flicked a switch, and the older music filled the room. He still used his patented hug and waddle when they danced, but she didn't mind._

Two children from them. Wright and Amelia. They did fabulous things with their lives, though Amelia took her father's death quite hard. He had a soft spot for her; she was the one out of the two of them that took up flying. Wright became an engineer. Both were terrible dancers, but lovely singers, like their parents.

Children... while I'm thinking of them, I can't help but look at Nanaki's corner. He had the most children: five total. Seems that he wasn't the last of his kind. His mate was lovely too... Hyuta. Five lovely cubs. He is most certainly alive; his time probably works so slowly. Became particularly close to Wright, if the image serves me right...

"_The mechanics of it is so strange, even now," Nanaki spoke, to no one in particular, the red of the setting sun intensifying his own glow. A slight purr sounded next to him._

"_Still musing about humans, dear?" Hyuta spoke gently, her tail flicking lazily behind her. He laughed._

"_Yes, just remembering an old conversation..." he trailed off, and nuzzled her affectionately. She gave him a lazy half grin._

"_I understand. They mean a lot to you, don't they?" she asked. He nodded._

"_We should visit that Yuffie one..." she continued, and he grinned widely. _

You are not alone any more, are you? I used to comfort myself, knowing that you and Vincent at least would be alone like I am. But I do not grudge you your happiness. It was silly of me to think that with a lifetime as long as yours, you would never find your own kind.

And even Reeve was not always alone. Though I expected him to find her.

His corner next. Such a double person, Reeve is. If only I'd have met him... that cat that he hid behind was the best reflection of his soul. I think he would have found me funny, with my girlish ways. He is my hope that even I, lost in time's grasp, might be found.

For even the wicked can be redeemed.

"_Hello, sir?" the haggard looking blond woman spoke, tugging at Reeve's sleeve. He turned around to her, and his eyes flashed with recognition. She smiled tiredly._

"_I can't help but think I know you," she whispered, raising a hand to his face. He grimaced._

"_Do not play tricks with me..."_

Further, to the discovery. The suspense is too much.

"_I don't know my name," she said clearly, after Reeve interrogated her some more. He shook his head._

"_Does Scarlet ring a bell?" he murmured, brows furrowed with the name. Her eyes lit up._

"_So you **do** know me!" she exclaimed, hugging him. His eyes seemed divided._

"_If you are her..." he whispered into her hair, "Then you might not want to know who you are..."_

She was never really the same woman. Too much memory had been lost. But he built her up, into a person that had existed before the Shinra. So maybe she was more Scarlet than she had imagined... untouched and fresh. But she never tangoed again.

Redemption... I always think of Vincent when I think of that word. Such a heavy word, meant for serious talks, and serious people. If my phantom eyes could cry, I would have, when I saw him smile that time. I've learned that once broken, things can never really be fixed. There are always scars.

But you can come close, I think.

Vincent's corner is so full of light unexpectedly. He was a happy child. The fumbling steps as his older sister taught him to waltz remind me of times from my own life. Though, he wasn't my brother, and later, not even my friend...

No. Not now. I can't talk of the dead like that. Funny, how respectful of them I am. I wonder why I haven't seen any of them. Why I'm alone like this.

_Tifa sat on the front porch, watching the sun come up over the horizon. Bags from a sleepless night hung under her eyes, and a mug of coffee sat next to her._

"_Only you choose to be alone," Vincent's voice drifted next to her. She closed her eyes._

"_So do you." She swallowed a lump in her throat. He sighed._

"_Who are you waiting for?" he asked. She smiled, and looked up at him._

Tifa, sister, friend, I look at your corner so often. I wanted to play my life through you, did you feel it? I wanted you to marry him, and have lots of children. But Cloud's stubborn, isn't he? The silly boy. And I'm sorry, I made it so hard for you to let go of him. I didn't see where your gaze finally lay. I didn't notice it, the first time you danced with him, that you were meant for something else.

Why did you let me bully you so much? Of course, you'd never see it that way... and I think maybe you would laugh at me, for my silliness.

I used to think that when someone thought about you, you would sneeze. I don't know now. The living, for the most part, can't communicate with the dead. But, if they concentrate enough, they can _feel_ them. I know Tifa felt me. Marlene felt me. Cloud felt me.

I hope, Tifa, you felt my blessing. Your happiness surprised me.

_Tifa pulled a little closer to him, happy to have the excuse to dance with him again. It was such a formal party, and she felt awkward without him. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the amount of champagne they'd had, but he smiled at her._

"_You are lovely," he whispered in her ear, immediately making her red. She giggled._

"_Vincent..." she began to protest, but he shook his head._

"_I wonder if we will ever have this chance again..." he murmured, and stumbled. She guided him back into the step. They were tipsy, for certain. So she kissed him on the cheek._

"_I hope we remember this later..."_

I watched them, making sure that they wouldn't fall out of existence. They must both be still alive, I can't feel them so keenly to suggest otherwise. A gray Tifa is still so bright and lovely. Especially considering how carefully Vincent handles her, with his own bones jumping back into aging; a fierce and quick thing. I want to think that they are always happy; but it is hard, to be so haunted.

I will be waiting for them.

I must look at the last corner now... my sense of order tells me to. It hurts the most, almost to the fact I can feel. I kept so much hope for him, and he kept...

Cloud. Didn't I tell you I would return?

I saw it all. Those lonely quests as you wandered, trying to "find" me. Trying for something that is just beyond our capabilities. Oh, how I admire your resolve.

And when you realized that the guilt was all that kept you going, I felt my last thread slip away. I think maybe that's why I'm here, unable to fully die, and unable to live. I think so many things, I feel loss, and I feel nothing...

It took another funeral for you to find her.

"_Th-thanks for coming," Yuffie said, her voice quivering. She was still in shock, with Reno's death, regressing almost, looking younger and sadder._

"_Oh, Yuff," Cloud said, holding onto her for a moment. He was never one to comfort, he was never as steady as he wanted to be. But he felt desperate, seeing this once sprite of energy reduced to a widow. She still seemed so young._

I always wanted you to find Tifa, when I realized that I couldn't come back. But I was such an idealistic and foolish girl, wasn't I? I didn't see the pain involved. From sorrow comes...

"_I've gotten a little better at dancing," Cloud said, humoring her. Yuffie's empty stare disturbed him, and he recalled a happier time with music. She nodded._

"_Here, I'll show you," he said, extending his hand. _

...comes...understanding. Maybe that's why it all happened the way it did. But what have I done? Can I be selfish for once? Can I?

_Not everyone made it to the wedding. Cloud wasn't so young anymore, and Yuffie was just beginning to show the signs of aging. Those present knew that it would be a short union. _

_Tifa was there. She was smiling so happily at them. Disillusionment did little to dampen that. With her came Vincent, pretending that he wasn't there with her. They weren't quite ready to stop hiding._

_Maybe it wasn't the happiest affair they'd ever seen. It had a different feel from the typical blushing young bride and uncertain young man._

_But when they were dancing, you could see it; there was forgiveness._

And still, I can't help but smile at them. I just can't let any of them go. I just can't...

_Shy little wallflower, sing me a song  
On faery light feet gentle breezes  
They dance for me, come along_

_A wink and a giggle, teases  
The young men, gentle girl  
Be young, for so many reasons_

_Spin and dance, clap and whirl  
Live it, for naught which is lost  
Step and sing, jaunt and twirl_

_Out of a world, once tempest tossed  
She's watching, endless youthful  
Beauty, what is the cost?_

_All your life, ever truthful._

But I feel now. Something I haven't in quite a long time... it's February, isn't it? What age am I now? How many summers have I missed now? I am tired, let me sleep... I am tired...

"_I believe that it is your birthday," Tseng said, matter of factly, in that serious manner she was used to._

"_Yes, and I want to show you that I've been practicing," Aeris replied gleefully, tugging on his arm. He raised an eyebrow._

"_You have?" he whispered, and then grinned. She arranged his arms._

"_Of course," she said, taking the first step, "I figured I owed you my first real dance, considering you taught me and all." And they began moving, the youthful and hesitant steps contrasting with the refined and strained ones of a youth cut off too soon._

I can't believe I'd forgotten, trying so hard to hold onto life... can I be forgiven? Please? I want so badly to be forgiven, why did you let me go? Why did you even have to let me go?

"Come now, rest my child."

_Mom? Am I still alone? Is he here?_

"He's been waiting for you for quite some time now, dear."

* * *

AN: So, I finished it. I guess there are a couple of twists. >. I felt there was some resolution needed. And I have an unnatural curiousity with the idea of Limbo... I know some people will hate this conclusion. I apologize to you. These are just ideas I like to play with. And you can interpret the "he" at the end to be any guy you want. Seriously. Thank you for following along, those that have. And sorry for the longness of this chapter. It's the last one, that's my excuse. 

Oy, I think too much. Back to studying now! I have an exam in five hours...but this story kept whispering to me, and I was so close to finishing it...

And if you're wondering what happened to Rude, well, he had a good life. Sorry, but Aeris wouldn't particularly focus on him. Made sense to me. Then again, do I ever make _any_ sense? Oh well...

Bonus points for those who can figure out why Cid's kids are named what they are. ;) - _Props to EvilMina, thehighwaywoman, and White Kit Rose, catching my not really so subtle relation back to flight... with a nod to the Wright Brothers and Amelia Earhart (personal heroes of mine)._


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